Another dark, cold, wet morning in Toronto, where everything looks drab and city stained. I love this city for so many reasons, but more often than not I just want to be here or here or here. Give me snow. I’ll take snow. Piles of it. I’ll take a tiny shack in the middle of nowhere, so long as I’ve got a couple books, a stash of cookies, and John — of course. The rest we could figure out on the spot.