  I am up far too early for a day in the summer. And I've been up for about three and a bit hours. *falls over and dies* Pfah to people who turn the radio on really loud when they get up. Pfah to people who flood the house with the smell of coffee early in the morning. Pfah to people in general. Yes, dear mommy is home.
I would just like to take this moment to say that Toronto International Airport is really really big. Terminal One that is. It is so big it takes a while to walk through it, end to end. It also has many different levels, easily accessible by escalators. Which is a word I have never really been confident about my spelling of. That said, I still had time to walk around this gigantic terminal, on every single level, in the time before my mother's flight was due in and the time when she actually arrived.
*glares in the general direction of pilots and air traffic controllers (I've been informed that the plane was innocent, so I shall not be accusing it of any wrongdoing)* I can also safely accuse Terminal One of Toronto International Airport of being boring. I am perfectly aware that Toronto International Airport is actually called Pearson International Airport, thank you. But I don't live in Pearson. I understand that to fully show our appreciation for various past heads of state we must name large landmark buildings rather illogically after them, so we can have fun confusing tourists and any slightly dimwitted locals. I do believe this is what we have things like mountains, lakes and other not as remarkable geological features for. It looks dark and gloomy outside.
Pretty. I thought of this entire huge post last night which was all very intelligent and witty, but unfortunately I fell asleep and it all fell out of my brain. I hope the landing didn't hurt it and that it is finding happiness wherever it went. This house is very very quiet. It is unnerving. I have absolutely nothing to write about.
But I don't feel like pressing 'Publish' just yet, which is undoubtedly a unwise idea since I am half asleep and making all sorts of typing errors, since I can't think straight. There is a gigantic chocolate bar on the floor here that I didn't see before. I sincerely hope I'm not hallucinating. It's real! And due to it's mysterious appearance, probably filled with poison or addictive drugs. *puts it back* I've always been taught not to eat candy that I find.
Presumably this rule still goes, even though I'm in my own house. Speaking about strange candy, don't read the ingredients in Russian chocolate. They will scare you. What exactly is "Food phosphatide concentrate" anyways? And why is the fifth ingredient alcohol? And why did they put almond in quoatation marks, with the note afterwards that it is identical to natural flavours?
Do I want to know the answers to these questions? I used to like Russian chocolate (especially that one which was an Aero bar rip-off! That one was good! ), but I don't think I want any anymore. Moral of today's story : If you like the food, don't read the ingredients. One last thing before I get kicked off the computer.
I was walking around the university a couple days ago, and there was this message board with graffiti on it, and the graffiti said: Little brother watches back. Which made me laugh for awhile. 
