I arrived home after midnight last night. I knew I was back in Toronto after the limo driver took the Jarvis street exit and was stopped at the lights under the underpass when a cracker rushed the limo and started to bang on my window with her begging cup. I turned to my youngest son and said I sure can tell we aren’t in small town Alberta. The Limo driver yells at me to ignore her and not to ‘feed the need’. I think he assumed I was from out of town as he launched into long diatribe about how drug addiction was ruing the downtown core and he peppered his lecture with lots of ‘helpful advice’ on dealing with drug addicts I might encounter in the city.
We came through the door and were presented with a ‘Montana-sized Mess’ which smelt strongly of eau de boy and cat. I tried to ignore it and go straight to bed but the dishes, empty pizza carton, and litter box kept calling my name. I finally gave up the struggle for sleep when I realized my neighbors weren’t going to get any quieter just because I came home after a month away. So I spent the night cleaning and went back to work on the morning. Dinner has been made and the dishes are put away. The washer is busy cleaning 10 days worth of dirty clothes from my oldest son and I am far to tired to blog anything I bookmarked earlier in the day. I have come to the conclusion there is no place like home but unfortunately, I am not home, not any more.
Anyway, the IDF found more of those ‘defensive tunnels’ leading from the Gaza Strip into Israel. Let me channel Jimmy Carter and say, digging tunnels into Israel are a necessary human right for Hamas.