Not one of those people

Last weekend I went to Victoria, BC to present a paper at a conference. The presentation was fine. It's a little ironic to present to eight people in a wider conference of about seven thousand, but hey, it all looks the same on the cv.
I decided to take an extra couple of days and turn the one day at the university into a sort of mini-break. I hadn't been to Victoria before and so I figured since I was going all the way over there on the ferry I may as well see the place. I went over on Friday, loaded up with printed google map pages and ferry schedules, and came back on Monday. Let's leave aside the fact that for a good part of Friday afternoon I had ketchup on my nose from an extra large burger at lunchtime and that no-one - the server at the pub, the bookseller in the bookshop, the lady at the coffee shop, numerous passers-by and the inn check-in lady - thought to tell me. I didn't know until I checked into my room later in the afternoon and looked in the mirror. Lovely. Perhaps they thought it was some kind of birthmark and didn't want to mention it.
Anyhoo, Saturday I 'saw the city'. I went downtown at 9am (never do this, nothing is open there until at least 10) and basically stayed there until 5.30. I saw stuff, took pictures, decided not to go whale watching, ate a Belgian waffle, etc etc. About 4pm I was about done, though. There are people who go on holiday alone and see things and seem to be fine about it. I discovered that I am not one of those people. I didn't like it. I can eat lunch by myself in a restaurant without a book or anything, but not dinner. I can walk around by day and sightsee by myself, but not in the evening. I discovered these are my parameters. So I ate good lunches each day, then retreated with a Subway sandwich and tea to my room to watch tv, and was reasonably content. Some cable channel was showing the original three Star Wars movies, one each night, so I had that on and read my puppy books. Monday I had plans to do last minute touristy things but I decided to come home instead. I was done.
But why am I reading puppy books? Because of this:

This, friends, is Sydney the miniature schnauzer (yes because of Alias). Sydney is five weeks old in this picture, six weeks old at time of writing, and in three weeks, comes home to me. I've never had a dog before. Expect photos and humourous tales to ensue.