It’s been a tense week and I’m a little on edge. As we all are – the earth is burning up, it’s hard to breath and the world is a mess.
This doesn’t help, from today:
“The military is investigating after part of a C-F 18 jet broke off during a fly-by at the Molson Indy. The door to the plane’s luggage pod fell into Lake Ontario and was recovered by Toronto Police. At this point officials expect it to be a mechanical malfunction, but the investigation is ongoing. The pilot didn’t even know the meter-long piece had dropped off until notified by his wingman. He then made a safe landing at Pearson International Airport.”
Sometimes I’d rather not know about this stuff.
Yesterday afternoon, I was sitting at home reading with the huzbond, quietly cursing the dumb-ass Indy (I live just east of the CNE, close to the lake) when suddenly the sound barrier just burst. Seriously, pressure in the room dropped, curtains swooshed – everything jet sounds. I can only describe it as an enormous tunnel of C-F 18 vibrations attached to my apartment.
It was pretty strange inside panic hq for few minutes there. But I got over it. Then I’m told of this morning’s news.
Apart from being grateful the luggage pod landed in the the lake and not on me or my neighbours, I also have another reason to think Indy weekend is lame-o.