"Even in the future, the sweet is never as sweet without the sour. And I know sour."

This'll be my last blog from this address. Everything's packed except some clothes in my room. All I'll need to do in the morning is remember my bike, and dismantle my bed so it'll fit through the doorway.

It's also the cut-off point for her and the year-long farce. My old e-mail address is gone, the screen is cracked on my old phone so I can't read text messages anyway and the Fido/Rogers account just about done. After tomorrow she won't have any of my current contact details and I will no longer have to wonder why she hasn't been in touch.

It's a shame really...a waste. But when it gets me down I just keep telling myself (a) that she probably never did intend to meet me, and (b) even if she did, there's nothing I can do about it anyway. The only info I have for her is an e-mail address so she could be anywhere on the planet. I just wonder which one. I must admit though, the last few days have been extraordinarily painful and I couldn't stop myself hoping that the deadline might stimulate some action on her part. Indeed, I wondered if she'd suddenly appear at the front door while I was up to my eyes in cardboard boxes and parcel tape.

But no, of course she didn't. I suspect her ex-husband would've padlocked her in the basement if she'd even tried.

As Penelope Cruz' character, Sofia, says in Vanilla Sky: maybe Sarah and I, "...will meet in another life, when we are both cats."