I was supposed to get here today, to Ontario. I was supposed to scrape and paint the bottom of our new boat We Can't Dance, a special phrase for my wife and I due to our inability to hold hands and walk more than five places without falling dangerously out of rhythm. I was supposed to work on the boat with the nephew we housed for two years when he was young. I was supposed to sleep aboard tonight for the first time, get it ready to launch by May 12, to sail her up 32 locks of the Trent Severn Waterway to the slip here on Sturgeon Lake. I was supposed to live on We Can't Dance until the fall, my family was supposed to come up back to their native Canada for the summer, I was supposed to sail and play and have dinners with them and friends and other family here all year. This was supposed to be the beginning year of full Snowbirding, the best of both worlds.
We were supposed to dance.
Instead, we are closing up the cottage in Bobcaygeon, Ontario, and heading for a house in Toronto. Instead, we are hoping Outer Harbour Marina will open this year so we can drive the six kilometers from the house and scrape and paint and get We Can't Dance ready to launch, and we hope it might be launched this year and just stay there in Toronto Harbour. Instead, we are bringing one of the two axe handles we have kept handy in case the same nephew acts on his threats and Exposes the Toilet Paper Conspiracy by breaking into my family's carefully maintained clean space, we are keeping the OPP Constable in our phone contacts with the case number for quick reference. Instead, we have a house in the city and the cameras in Orlando to see our house there.
We can't dance.