"The city loves you; It gives you oxygen"

I tend to listen to really cheesy love songs when I leave Ottawa. The kind that brides who are jilted at the altar probably listen to as they cry into their half-empty cartons of chocolate-chip ice cream. My relationship with Ottawa is actually quite reminiscent of a break-up, or the city can be seen as my dirty mistress, who I continuously falter for and go back to. Either way, it ends in sad break-up songs.

Bad metaphors aside, I had a wonderful weekend in Ottawa. Keeping with my tradition of long, vague lists, my weekend consisted of: Highlander Caesars, drawing pictures of South Carolina in a really intense game of Pictionary, multiple grilled-cheese sandwiches, a rooftop patio, a mountain of spicy curly fries, balcony beers, and getting hit in the head with juggling balls on numerous occasions. It seems that an Ottawa trip doesn’t go by, where I don’t come home to Jordan, devising a conniving plan to convince him to move with me. Even if not to Ottawa, just to somewhere new, that we can unwrap together.

There I go wearing my heart on my blog again. That all said, I’m happy to be home again to tackle my apartment. I’ve finally bought all the big things, and they’ve been assembled (Thanks Dad!) so now it’s on to the fun, decorative stuff.

I’ve become such a suck as of late. I go away for three days and all I want to do is skip work and hang out with Jordan. It’s a far cry from the days where we’d go three months on only phone calls and emails. I certainly don’t forget how lucky (well … maybe luck shouldn’t get all the credit) to have this summer.

Ottawa was an excellent opening weekend for what I suspect will be an amazing summer.