Hail the new roommate! Bow before Edward, for indeed he is mighty and tall as the oak tree. Alas, our bathroom and kitchen facilities are tiny and cramped. I wish the apartment was more worthy of his commanding presence.

So begins the slow process of acclimatizing yet another West Coast Man to the joys and perils of my city. As long as there is less projectile vomiting than last time, I’ll be happy. Since he disembarked, we’ve explored the apartment and north as far as Real Thailand on Bloor. There was the drawing of maps during dinner, and some tentative plans made for shopping and walkabouts after I get off work tomorrow.

Nothing brings a smile to my face faster than the memory of holding Ed’s hand to help him jaywalk across Bloor Street tonight. It has been so long since I bothered expending the energy to be afraid of traffic, I’ve forgotten how sweet and innocent that fear looks. Especially on someone over six and a half feet tall.

I feel badly about his homesickness, though. If I could bring him some mountains to look at, I would. I have enormous respect for people who pull up their roots and relocate, even if only for a year or so. Both of my parents managed it when they came to Canada, so I’m sure I have it in me to do so, but the wrenching feeling of leaving home, friends and familiarity behind seems like it would take incredible strength of character.

Props to Edward. I’m terribly excited to have him here. He cooks like an angel, speaks with a deep rolling purr, makes me feel delicate as an egg, and will be an excellent new yoga partner. Plus, it’s always good to have another book fanatic around the house. Joy!