Friday morning, I woke up and thought well, it's a beautiful day for a funeral. Mother Nature had turned up the heat, and the sun was out, loud and proud. While it's true that no one wants to go to a funeral, going on a beautiful day sure beats mourning in a snowstorm.

We love to sort people into boxes. You have your party friend, your movie buddy, the astrology girl, the friend who can help you move; we don't do it on purpose. It seems natural that when a potluck comes up, we know to invite the foodies, the social butterflies who will keep the party flowing,…

While that's true, evidence has long pointed to the contrary. In fact, I'm on record for shit talking the suburbs – the most family oriented of all locales – consistently. I stand by everything I've said about the sleepy little contrived spaces where dreams go to die, especially about the West Island, but I am willing to admit that not all suburbs are created equal.

This past week, someone said something so heinous that the room fell silent around them. People stopped mid chew, and cutlery clattered to plates. A couple clicked photos to post the incident later. Word spread like wildfire.

A dear friend called me the other day, completely frazzled. Her sister just had what could be considered an ill conceived baby. Ill conceived because the parents were ships passing in the night, and the mother is young -- both chronologically and emotionally.

When I was born, all The Beatles were alive. I mean, ever so briefly, but alive nonetheless. Despite the timing, they didn't get much play in my childhood home. My dad was more of a Doors and Joplin guy, and my mom was more Rod Stewart and James Taylor.

A couple of months ago, I started writing an essay about toxic empathy – the point at which our caring for others becomes detrimental to ourselves. I have a fair amount of first hand experience on the subject, and have seen people slip into this pit, never to be seen as their whole selves again.

The word on the street is Hanta Virus. One can tell by the hushed tones, and careful media coverage, that even though the cruise ship outbreak is still considered a localized event, and the virus doesn't appear to be spreading any differently than usual, a lot of people are holding their breaths.

It's funny -- in a laugh so I don't cry way -- to notice how people are getting dumber. Yes, social skills have crumbled (ask anyone who's worked in the service industry, or with the public long enough to see), and we can blame the whole internet for that.

Let's take a short time warp back to Monday of last week. It was a lovely day, the hope of spring was shining brightly, and I was sure we'd seen the last frost warning of the season. (More disappointed than surprised, my flowers are in for the night as I write this, because, well, weather.)