. . . what you’ve got until you lose it. And there’s nothing like a pre-Alzheimer’s experience more than a three-day turnaround trip to Japan. Want to be disoriented? (pardon the pun) Check. Want to be disordered? Check. Want to be distracted, disinterested, disinterred, dismayed, dismal, destroyed? Check for all. If it weren’t bolted on I’d have forgot my head.
As it is, I had to remember the following: our passports (only realised I was missing my sons’ Canadian and Japanese passports when we were about half an hour outbound to the airport in Kansai), my tickets, the keys to my house (who thinks about the keys to your house when you’re half way across the world?) my $356 Prada glasses, my $250 sunglasses, my laptop, my bag, his bag, his snacks, my money, my credit card . . . just so many things to think about. I’m just glad I didn’t forget Tai-chan in some café at Vancouver airport.
After all, he was the point of this trip . . . well, we made it and I only lost the house keys. But they’re replaceable. And after I talk to the owner of this hostel where we’re staying until I find them, I’m sure everything will be better.
Anyone got a room? Not to mention the skeleton of the cat you're going to find.
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