Best. Week. Ever.

I don't have any friends (other than my sisters) who I have had in my life forever. I went to highschool with two of my best girls, but I don't have the same stories as other people. We became friends when we were eight when we had sleepovers and step on (and broke) each other's glasses.

I met Erin in university. She lived three rooms down from me in residence (ah, good old Saugeen-Maitland). Though my floor was pretty close and we all did fun things together, Erin and I were merely bonded by mutual friends. We didn't spend any real one-on-one time together.

It wasn't until I graduated university and began my post-grad that we actually hung out alone. We were the only people from our crew in London that summer. We were both in relationships that were falling apart. We sipped champagne from individual-sized bottles and frolicked down the street to Richmond Row. We always, without fail, ran into the "breakup kitty" on the walk home from the bar and stopped to sit on the sidewalk and pet him (or her). It was after the first breakup kitty experience that Erin and I decided she needed to break up with her toxic boyfriend. Hence the name.

We supported each other. We laughed when my ex-boyfriend stopped by my house to take my vibrator, forgetting his big television in the process. We drank and had drunken rants about how much boys sucked. We sat on the patio at the Barking Frog in our newly-single state, wondering how to go about dating again. No doubt scaring off all boys within a mile radius.

We did a lot of tequila shots. We flirted and danced. We went home with each other to spoon. I call little spoon! I left her screaming about how she was doing to die (between her yelling for me to order pizza with mushrooms!) while I frantically wrote papers for my PR class, which were due the next day.

For my birthday, we created "Yard Yahtzee" and made passersby blow on our giant, misshapen dice for luck. We drank cosmos and laid on the front lawn. It was one of the greatest summers of my life, regardless of the break up and the hardest schooling I've ever done, and working three jobs.

Though she moved to Ottawa, and I moved to Edmonton, she's still one of the closest people in my life. She's the only person to ever have me cry happy tears. We cry when we see each other in the airport, but not when we're separating... it's strange, I'll admit.

There have been a lot of emails and drunken phone calls, but I'm happy that she's here now for a legitimate visit. I'm so excited to step outside to meet her for lunch, frolick through the city (past the bull she fell off of the last time she was here... when a kind stranger boy carried her to our door while I soothed her bleeding knee) and enjoy the sunshine.

Tomorrow the littlest sister, Kaye, moves to Alberta for four months. This will be the longest amount of time I've lived with any member of my family for approximately seven years. I could not be more excited.

Best. Week. Ever.