Tomorrow is Thursday

Maybe you already knew that. What will your day be like tomorrow? Maybe a little slow and dull? Maybe you have something kind of special planned? Maybe you wish you could stay at home and avoid the colder weather.

I am moving. Tonight I’m planning what I will haul down as a last car load of stuff before I become a fully fledged downtown Toronto living person. I’m not exceptionally looking forward to it.

It will be nice to have a place of my own. Though that is a bit up in the air lately. My brother has arranged for a guy to paint the hallway leading upstairs from the basement apartment and he will likely figure he can make use of my apartment to wash up, eat, poop and so on. Oh joy! I just really want some guy sharing my facilities, leaving me to clean up after him. If I wanted that I could have stayed married. On the really happy side, this is the same highly unreliable guy who never shows up when he says he will. So I will never know when he may drop by, or if he will.

I need to buy a bus pass which will take up the bit of money I have left but I am looking forward to seeing downtown Toronto again. Even if I have to look for a job while doing so.

Anyway, still a lot to do tonight. I’ve got a to-do list going. Really list-able of me! Sometimes a list is a good thing, outside of grocery shopping even.

I don’t know what will happen about the Internet connection. I will just sign up with Bell if nothing has worked out by November. But, Bell may take a week to send out the package for the DSL connection. My telephone modem may be fried, it did get hit by a shock at the same time the DSL modem from Netscape did. So, chances are it’s goose was also cooked.

My Mom is a bit sad about my leaving. I can tell cause she’s driving me crazy with double checking my life. We are going to play cards now that she has just come back from her swim at the hotel behind the house here. I am going to miss this town. It is pretty nice for a small town. How weird it will be to be part of a city again. I hope I can get over the transplanted feeling quickly and I really hope I don’t feel like the cow among stick figure girls too.

I may see if the budget can stretch for a couple of day passes for the TTC. Then I could take my digital camera and me to the Eatons Centre and the ROM (Royal Ontario Museum). I know I am going to feel really strange and out of place for awhile. I’m going to miss a car too. How nice it is to just go out to the driveway and turn on the ignition and drive away. Waiting for the bus just won’t compare. For one thing it’s much less anonymous to be in a car than on the bus. I think that bothers me more than waiting for the bus.

Some people might take that as good inspiration for losing weight. I may just buy a vat of ice cream and let myself pretend I’m skinnier than I think I am.

Life goes on. See you later. Someday over the rainbow….

Stalled Like a Dead Battery


I’m pretty sure I will be moving this coming Monday, this time. I would have gone Wednesday but today the car battery died. Right now we aren’t sure if it will start to take it back to Barrie when they call and let us know they have the battery in. We went to the Barrie Honda dealership cause they are always good and explain things until you really run out of questions. They never rush you and, they don’t charge for every least thing they do with the car. Likely that’s cause it’s a Honda. Anyway, that is where we spent a large part of this afternoon. Turns out the car has it’s wires crossed so the battery that routinely would have been right for the car, wasn’t. When they phone tomorrow we will be taking the car back out there again.

At this point in the great migration I’m glad for another reason to stall on moving. My brother says everything I have moved down there already (most of my clothes, books and kitchen gadgetry) is all musty from being in a dampish basement apartment for the past few months. Oh joy and bliss. One more thing on my list of things I have to do and already won’t be overwhelmingly happy about.

The people upstairs have not one, but three cats. I had heard about the one. Likely the other two are the kittens they promised to get rid of back in May when they shat all over the basement apartment. The very basement apartment that the people upstairs were not renting but decided to remodel into a cat toilet anyway. Thanks… Not quite.

At this point I have no savings and there is no part of me, not even my littlest finger, that can find some enthusiasm for job hunting. Not that I have a choice there. My savings are pittifully all gone. I have bills from the apartment which I have yet to move into. But, I did sign up for phone service, back in June.

I have a lovely cold sore too. It’s itchy and not very cute looking. At least I just finished my bloody mess for the month, it came more than a week early. Still, I prefer that to having it stop and making me think I was going into early menopause as it did when I got divorced.

What else… the bus thing. I can’t dig up enthusiasm for going back to taking the TTC everywhere. Having a car has spoiled me. Especially when I think of grocery shopping and most of all, grocery hauling around back to the dwelling of musti-catness.

I’m trying not to say anything about anything I’m thinking or feeling to anyone involved in the apartment massacre. Each time I say anything about how pissed off I almost feel they tell me how wrong I am to feel that way. It’s always been like that for me. The nice sister is not allowed to be un-nice. Never get angry or be less than nice and pleasant towards all mankind. People don’t get it that nice grrls are not stupid or door mats. So, I kindly let them live with their blinders on and I just deal with everything inside myself. Though, it is odd to have them ask me why I don’t talk more about my feelings and choose to keep most of what I think to myself.

If they don’t really want to hear or to allow me to have feelings (not according to the Nice Grrl Plan) then stop asking for my thoughts. Don’t ask me to pull threads and then get pissy if I begin to unravel in ways you don’t like.

Grandma’s House

What happens at Grandma’s stays at Grandma’s.

Pretty good T-shirt slogan. It was over there on the CafePress banner. I’d buy that one. Most of the others haven’t been that interesting (to me).

I have not moved because:

1- There is an outside leak which has caused water damage which has yet to be repaired and the apartment is now musty, from the water damage.

2- The man who has already been paid to do the work of fixing up the inside water damage as well as painting the apartment has not bothered to show up. Though he makes endless promises.

Haven’t I already said all of this?

3- My nephew doesn’t want me to move, leave him. I’m trying not to let that keep me here but it is making it less easy to move and who really loves to move in the first place.

4- I don’t want to make this moving thing a long drawn out event. I am using my Mother’s car to transport most of my stuff and gas is pretty pricey here. So I want to do it all in one shot, as best as I can do it in one shot. Coming back and hauling things down there on the Greyhound bus and then the TTC is just not hugely appealing.

5- The last two are smaller things, the first two are the main things.

6- That’s about it. Go read some other blog now. I don’t mind.

PWAC

Periodical Writers Association of Canada I can’t see myself paying $240 a year to join when there isn’t even a local chapter, for me. Besides, what would I really get out of it at this point? I doubt they are going to send people to me by the bus load, not when the nearest group is all the way down there in Toronto.

This is good to have a link to, maybe stick it in with the proposal, but not much use and certainly not $240 worth.

Thanks for the link Skye. I hadn’t been thinking about writing groups, sometimes you need a friend to remind you. 🙂

Your Inner Child

My inner child is ten years old today

My inner child is ten years old!

The adult world is pretty irrelevant to me. Whether
I’m off on my bicycle (or pony) exploring, lost
in a good book, or giggling with my best
friend, I live in a world apart, one full of
adventure and wonder and other stuff adults
don’t understand.

How Old is Your Inner Child?
brought to you by Quizilla

I don’t think too much about the whole inner child deal. Considering yourself as a child seems a bit… childish. My ex-husband thought I needed to be more childish, he wanted me to play with him with comics, toys (No, not those adult toys) and such. I just wasn’t into that. Maybe it depends on what you did when you were a kid. I had fun as a kid, a brother and two sisters. We did a lot of things kids usually do. But, I was still the oldest and the one who made sure everyone had bus fare to get home at the end of the day. That kind of stuff older sisters are supposed to do. I liked doing it all too. So, maybe I did all my kid stuff when I was a kid and now I want to do the adult stuff. Not that I’m stuffy and never have fun. I just enjoy adult fun more than kid stuff.