Off the Cliff

For various reasons, largely having to do with the persistent rain of this rainy April, I have revived Project Tiddly,  and went one better by ordering delivery of my vodka and cooler. Having gone out to the super this afternoon and having cleaned the gunk of spring off the walker's wheels, I had no desire to do it all again. Equally all I want to eat is cake and have in fact eaten cake every day this past week thanks to a McCains Deep ad Delicious vanilla frozen cake. And very nice it was too. Vegetables simply don't do it for me anymore. I can't move in the mornings anyway so can't get downstairs to weigh myself so the damage will go unnoticed and unrecorded.

I wondered why I could never get Substack to load on my tablet. Discover it's because the upstarts tablet, bought in 2017 and retured to factory settings in 2021, refuses to load certain programs and apps like Kobo and Substack while the downstairs one is just fine with them. A nuisance, but nothing to ge done about it. The upstairs tablet holds a charge much longer than the downstairs one, which is perpetually running down its battery. Like now, for instance, after I recharged it last night and this afternoon.

However, see that my nephew has at last cashed the wedding cheque I sent him a month ago, so that niggle is settled. 

Lessee. Finished Thoughts Contingent on a Blithe Spirit, a Dr. Priestley, The Terracotta Bride, and a fast reread of After the Funeral because I'd totally forgotten Who Done It as well as Who Was Done in the first place. This is very pleasant. Evidently I do forget Agatha Christies because in turning out my shelves I discovered a paperback copy of The Clocks, which I could have sworn I never read in my life.

But mostly I've been beavering through Murder After Christmas, a seriously batshit version of English country house Golden Age mysteries. It has one of those seriously batshit English families that one usually finds in places like Wodehouse where genre stops you from taking them as anything but comedic. I'm not sure if the author, one Rupert Latimer, intended this to be comedic because the rest is fairly deadpan serious. The twists in the plot made my head spin, as they did the inspecting Inspector. I'm still going But wouldn't his third wife's family still inherit? But no, because evidently his first wife was still alive when he married his third? But she couldn't have been because didn't he remarry his first wife when the second one died so he couldn't have married the third until she was dead but wait... I don't want to have to reread this to find out but it's seriously going to bug me if I don't. Also am not champing at the bit to start When They Burned the Butterfly which sounds like a downer. 

The tree guys are out back clearing branches from the cherry and piling the resultant brush out in front for the chipper. The whole street in front of SND, me, and NND was empty this morning which, as the guy said, never happens. Indeed, whenever I've had a delivery, for sure someone slides into all the available spots. When I last did this in 2020, they wanted me to reserve space for the chipper and when I did, said it wasn't long enough. That, plus price, is why I went with a different firm this time. Still can't watch the guy doing his thing high in the branches. Partly because imagination of disaster me sees branches breaking under him (yes of course he's clipped and carbined), partly because My tree, my tree, my poor tree denuded even before the blossoms have begun. However they've taken down any branch that comes even close to the wires, so no worry about high winds bringing stuff down. High winds love to strip twigs from the front yard trees so yeah, I have a thing about trees and wires.

Their email said I was second on their list today and they'd be here around lunchtime and lunchtime can be anything around twelve. Even if I know that work never  ever finishes early I still felt it necessary to be up and exercised and fed by 11, so no rolling back to sleep when I woke at 9. Curtailed sleep and allergies have kept me logey all day, helped by ordering in a banh mi and Vietnamese coffee for lunch. Guys showed up at 1:45 and lunch showed up at 1:50. Is bright and cold and blowy today, after yesterday's 'four seasons in 24 hours.' I went out in winter jacket for the grey autumnal morning temps, had to take it off when the sun came out and warmed the world up, came home to snow showers followed by thunder and monsoon rain. One really doesn't need this kind of drama, you know.

It's actually not 'how terribly strange to be seventy' or even seventy-something. It's realizing that stuff one remembers perfectly well happened sixty years ago. Lots of people don't even live to sixty. That's the weird part.

One of those fitness bros on Tiktok was banging on about 'Your first 5000 steps don't count! That's just you moving around in your day. It's the second 5000 that will make you fit!' Yeah well, we know who doesn't have an office job. Also who is not an arthritic seventy-something. 5000 steps is a good day for me, achieved today by going out for lunch in the 'one day only! sun' and continuing along Bloor to Wieners Home Hardware, where I purchased an air purifier and a 100 foot extension cord, and walked both back on the rollator. I have good intentions of trimming vines in the back garden and the hedge in the front, which will not happen soon because my back is killing me these days. Maybe when April is over?

(There was an interlude there where I went to get cash from the BoM's ATM, which returned my card and gave me a receipt but did not give me cash. And because it was Friday, there was a lineup to speak to a person. So I waited and watched one woman do something with what looked like her business's account books, and then did something else, and then had to pay some bills, and then needed something else done with her card. All the time in the world. But she finished at last and I rolled up to the desk and asked about my money. The clerk took my receipt, looked at it, and showed me the small print under my total, which said the machine could not complete the transaction so the withdrawal was cancelled. I felt like an idiot, of course, but now I know. And know not to try for money on a Friday when the machines are likely to run out of cash. Or run out of tens, a new option that I'd like to use except that mostly the ATMs will only offer me twenties and fives. Well, fifties if I want them but I don't. I want small bills for panhandlers and tips.)

But after a rest at home with beanbags and muscle relaxants I did another of my perennial To Do chores and washed the warmer of my two winter coats at the laundromat. Cold water and a smaller load let me get away with a mere 2.75; the larger machines start at $4 for a cold wash. You can't dry clean this coat but I doubt that washing got much of the grime off the sleeves. I tumble dried it on low, as instructed, but it will require hanging up to get completely dry. Which is fine-- winter's last blast will blast through some time tomorrow and I will need the heat on for a couple of nights.

After which I went out again to see if Fiesta had turkey rolls, which they didn't. Got some hummous to eat with veg and a couple of Pepsis to help with the sinus medication I have to take in the allergy season. All this came to a grand total of 7000 steps, so no, no second 5000 steps for me. Fitness bro can go pound sand.

The rain kindly held off until well after I got home from physio, which was nice (I took my rain cape just in case, which is doubtless why it did so) but now is bucketing down and will probably keep on doing it until Friday. So no, not putting any garbage out tonight. Besides I should pack up those used furnace filters in the basement, which require a large type of garbage bag,  and I don't feel like it. Rain and warmth makes things hurt, and sinuses not least of all. So shall sit inside and feel sorry for myself instead. Especially since there were no turkey rolls at Loblaws even though they had them last week-- also frozen stuffed turkeys for $55, dear lord-- and I wanted an easy cook easy carve turkey roll to supply my protein for three or four days. Old age is when eating is less a pleasure and more of a chore: have you had sufficient protein today, sufficient fibre, sufficient green veg? My wholegrain cereal and blueberries take care of at least half the fibre but the protein is a problem. It's supposed to be something ridiculous like 90 grams for someone my age and weight and I can't manage that. I should just lose weight and then I could eat less.

Reading is a bust. Finished a Miles Burton, or maybe two-- they don't stick in the memory, but I'm glad Kobo has more of them in. Have a dead tree Golden Age mystery from the library and When They Burned the Butterfly waiting there for whenever it stops raining. But my most enjoyable reading right now is an oddity. Back in the 90s there was a fanfiction collection called Anime House Presents, generally a mixed bag of stories in 80s series I didn't know, and varying widely as to quality. But one writer, Vicki Wyman, wrote in Lupin Sansei, and wrote really well. I don't know that series at all but it doesn't matter: Wyman did that best-of-doujinshi thing of making the characters distinctly her own, in stories whose titles all start with the words 'Thoughts Contingent'. I've been going through my collection with a view to getting rid of them, and have reached the special all Eroica issue. In which there's a longish novella by Wyman, crossing Lupin and his two henchmen in a caper with Dorian and Klaus. Thoughts Contingent on a Blithe Spirit is an utter delight and I'm taking it very slowly to spin out the pleasure.

Today, as my sister said, was a 'get everything done before the rain comes back' day. Everything for me was a library hold and late lunch at my tony Korean restaurant where I haven't been in ages, mostly because my regular waitress hasn't been around. I thought she'd left but no, she was just spending two months in China. With her family. Because she's not Korean at all, she's Chinese. She just happens to speak Korean that she learned at a Korean restaurant there, and Japanese that she learned in Japan, and English that she learned here, and now I feel like a piker. Yes, there are people who just have a gift for languages and I am not one of them, but ohh I wish I was.

I was ready to congratulate her on missing our ferocious winter, but turns out her family lives in Harbin, which was probably worse than us.

It was a sudden! warm day, after being furnace weather all weekend. The wind blew so it wasn't quite as oppressive as two weeks ago but I still have that scratchy antsy unhappiness that the first warm weather brings. At least the forecast rain got itself over with in the night so people could get to the polls, those who didn't do the advanced polls at Easter. Someone has been papering the neighbourhood telephone poles with flyers denouncing Carney, probably for not following a socialist agenda. Which is no surprise for anyone with an ounce of political nous, but the younger generation has no memory of what a red tory is. I too would like my left-leaning Iiberals back, but in the face of entrenched populism out west and the Orange One down south, a very central government is needed to pull the saner right-wing element in. 

This being the last sunny day till oh who knows, I put a box of books out by the sidewalk and then... stayed in,  because Saturday at the Opera was Don Giovanni from the Met last year. Having missed Idomeneo on Valentine's Day through not checking the schedule, I was very careful to keep today open. That library hold that came in will just have to wait. And being in the front room, I managed 30 minutes on the bike machine without triggering my Don'wanna reflex, that has kept me away from it for months.

Not to be snotty, though, but some of the singers' Italian was seriously English-inflected, particularly the Commendatore. Other English speakers can manage the vowels, like Kiri Te Kanawa, but obviously not everyone. And of course nobody else's Elvira comes up to hers. Still, a pleasant interlude. Don Giovanni was played as an oily snake, which makes sense, but is new to me since I imprinted on Raimondi's menacing Giovanni in the Losey film, which now gives me the oogies to listen to. 

And note that May 23 is Turandot, that Met production that I've seen clips of on Tiktok and would adore to see live.

I did make it to an oddly empty Fiesta at 5. I wanted bagels but woe is me, Fiesta no longer has bagels. Can't think why not because they bake them on the premises and cannot keep them in stock. Mind, I don't *need* bagels, but those fritters yesterday upset my tum and I wanted some cushioning starch. Ah well, rice crackers it is.

Dentist appointment at 1:30 so of course was up at 8:45 to be breakfasted and medicated and exercised and showered to leave house before 12. Going by  cab takes barely 20 minutes but a) the TTC is Like That and b) it's recycle Thursday meaning the trucks will come moseying up the street invariably when the cab is due. Also it wasn't supposed to rain until later and my subway station has elevators now. So I hoofed it down there and got on same. But someone has decided that telling people eastbound and westbound is too confusing for the poor dears, so they name the terminal points instead. Which might still be alright except that the termini are Kipling and Kennedy, waaay out in Heere men say bee dragonnes land, and conveying nothing to me personally. However. Kennedy is eastbound because it has an e in it, and also is the one where I have to go to the lower level and then cross to the elevator on the other side. Because I always go east and never go west if I can avoid it. 

So off we start on our three station journey and then as we near the second station slow down and stop. Ah. Signal problems farther along have caused all trains to turn back at Broadview so eastbound trains are backed up.  At least they tell us this, clearly for once. We start moving slowly and stop at Spadina, pull out and once again stop and wait before St.George. Start again, arrive, I get off and trek down the platform to the elevator. Woman is standing there looking distraught. 'It's not coming!' And I'm all Oh god didn't we do this last time? But as she's turning away I see the cables start to move. Two women get off with their kids in two wagons, the loading of which accounts for the delay. So up and onto line1 and off at Queen's Park. Woman outside the station asks me is the subway running yet, and I say No, still shuttle buses from Broadview and she turns sadly away. Mosey over to Yonge. It has taken an hour and change to get here. No time for a Tim's but do get to send my tax authorisation to the accountant, registered mail for a third of what the courier costs and no danger (fingers crossed) of it going to Quebec this time.

My dentist had an emergency patient as well as me, meaning she floated between the two of us, meaning I got a break from holding my mouth open with my weakened jaw muscles. (Cracked vertebrae apparently does that to you.) So I could actually move my jaw when she was finished, for which I was grateful. And grateful too that I still had money on account so the damage was half what it might have been. "I'll put this through for insurance." Oh no, they said they wouldn't cover this one. "Oh, they often say that and then pay it anyway." Which would be nice if it happens but I think they refused it twice. However, I stopped by Fran's (the last greasy spoon in TO) and had meatloaf and mash with what I would have spent on taxis.

Back on the TTC, and knowing better than to transfer to the Bloor line at 3 pm, up to Dupont. Elevator to the concourse, over to the elevator to street level, it arrives with father and two kids in a double stroller, and... the doors won't open. Guy inside tries opening them manually, I press the large help button and tell the voice what's up, voice says he'll come over but doesn't. Then Dad gets the doors open from inside, remarking 'It did this yesterday too' as he exits, but the doors close before I can get in and won't open when I press the button. And still no one comes. And this, boys and girls, is why I hope never to be in a wheelchair because though it's a pain, you *can* take a folding walker on the escalator, even the stupidly narrow ones at Dupont station. Which I do, and traffic being backed up to forever all along Dupont because condos have taken up a whole lane, as ever, I walk home. And no, no buses pass me as I do so. There are too damned many condos being built in this town, especially that one, which has a penthouse going for five million and lower floors for not much less. On grubby Dupont that has no shopping or green spaces to speak of. People are nuts.

Tomorrow is, what else, rain again so I shall sleep in and stay in. Does it always rain this much in April? My DW journal says yes, yes it does. Heigh-ho.

Well, if we're heading towards the apocalypse at least we're doing it on a sunny day. A cold sunny day, mind: snow on the rooftops when I got out of bed at an unwonted 9:30. Vanished in the April sun when I eventually went out to catch the 4 pm opening of Sushi on Bloor. Had a bento, very pleasant except for the guy who came in and plonked himself down two tables from me. He'd been smoking before he came in and reeked of it. Had to put sanitizer on my upper lip to kill the smell. I know most people don't smell most things, and smokers certainly can't, but it's a misery for those of us who do.  I suppose it's like those with perfect pitch who have to listen to rock singers who definitely don't. 

Otherwise sun and snow do make a change from the chronic rain showers and also what was probably thundersnow last night. Whether it's the rain or whether it's a new stage of decrepitude, but my wrists are now catching and panging arthritically in the fashion of my April elbows. Last month I could skip acupuncture no problem, but having missed last week's session was clearly a bad idea. Have also ballooned with water weight as my ankles and scale inform me, alas. Time to drop the vodka coolers and reintroduce the 1.5 litres of water again.

Yesterday achieved the dizzy heights of 22C, which means patio weather in TO, so after voting I went and sat on  a patio and watched the great white clouds of summer lumber overhead. Evidently no matter the restaurant, fish and chips in this here burg means a great slab of deepfried something. Maybe I'm just confused by the fish fingers of my childhood because I always expect something more dainty. However Pour Boy's is better than Paupers' and the servings as ever were generous enough that they sufficed for lunch today.

When I went out to the polls I half expected rain shortly, just from the grey-banded clouds and the fretful wind. But those were presumably the last hurrah of the overnight rain that flooded all the street corners. I still ached and was abominably stiff all through yesterday so my 5600+ steps were accomplished in misery and wanhope. Today, with temps back to seasonable cold, I'm much more limber. Still not venturing outside because, sun or not, the weather pages are saying heavy rain. Am indoors with vodka and beanbags, trying not to spend the whole day on tiktok and failing miserably.

Yesterday was a total washout, literally. Monday night was a nuit blanche interrupted by rolling thunderstorms, so I read until 4 and slept in to headachy noon. It continued to storm and deluge all day and especially into the evening, as the temps dropped from Monday's muggy 20C to something more seasonable overnight. Had the heat on when I went to bed because we were hitting 4C by morning. Today, well, got up to Loblaws for milk and such, bundled up garbage for tomorrow's pickup, and made zucchini fritters. I'd grated the zucchini and potatoes yesterday with my *extremely* achy elbows-- apparently pressure changes and damp are registered in the arms now-- and tried to squeeze out the moisture through the cheesecloth I bought on the weekend. Discover that kitchen scissors and nail scissors will not cut cheesecloth. Shoved the mixture into a tupperware and had something else for dinner. Today I used a linen tea towel and that worked fine, but the carrot I was going to add had gone rubbery unpeelable and ungratable. Tossed that, added soupçon of flour and egg to the mix, and fried them up. Passable, but if I ever do this again will definitely add onion. And maybe baking soda like they say, to make the things lighter.

Have had a Dr Priestley on the go since forever and still not finished it. I want country house murders and this is about a syndicate that steals stuff. Finished Cabell's The High Place, wondering why I still read Cabell and his extremely unlikeable protagonists, a murderer in this case, as well as a horndog like *every last one of his male characters.* There's a name for why I'm doing it,  which I suspect is masochism. 'My critics think I am an enemy to marriage,' James whines. 'As a married man, I take exception to this.' Yeah well, all the guys you write can't stand their wives and go around having it off with any nubile thing available, so no wonder. I need to stop reading male authors, is what. 

The rain on Thursday filled the interstices of my recycle bin that I'd left upside-down to try and remove stuff stuck to the bottom. The bins are as high as my chest, is why I can't just reach in and pull papers etc. out. Anyway, temps went back to winter Thursday night and I didn't get around to righting the bin until today. At which several chunks of ice fell out of the handle. The bouncing ball of temperature swings is supposed to be over by now but clearly is not. Today hovered near freezing with snowflurries, Monday will be 16C.

Had not registered that this week will bring Easter closures on Friday. Must stock up at some point, probably Thursday along with the rest of the world, because Wednesday is supposed to be heavy rain and thunderstorms.

Cannot convince myself that today is Saturday. Has felt like Sunday all day. Went out to Paupers for fish and chips and will not repeat the experience because the place was full of shrieking happy parties, labbing and jorking as John Lennon said, and the fish was encased in a solid half inch of batter.

How lovely to be able to roll back to sleep in the morning and not get up until 11:30.

Saw my first snowdrops today. Woman down Manning was raking out her side garden and there they were. Of course my understanding is that you're supposed to leave all the rotted leaf detritus from autumn for the insects to breed come warmer weather, but certain yuppies and certain elderly Italians will have no part of this. They want tidy gardens and I assume don't want insects. Hence they use leaf blowers in the fall, if yuppie, or rakes if Italian. Signora down the street has cleaned her front yard already and left the mulch out to be picked up whenever the city starts picking up garden waste, which will certainly not be this week. Which is recycling and I have disposed of a number of Japanese novels in same. I suppose I should also trun that box of Zero Sums that I discovered hiding behind the door of the downstairs front room but sufficient unto the day etc. And anyway I have a bag of doujinshi to go out. If recycle comes late I may add it to the bin.

Finished this week were a couple of Priestleys, Death Sits on the Board aka The Revenger's Tragedy, and Harvest Murder which, if it weren't in the title, would leave you wondering if anyone was murdered, or was going to be murdered, at all. Finally got through The Silver Stallion, third in my Cabell reread. I suppose I might as well reread all of these in case of FOMO, but they're much much slower than Dr. Siri, my other marathon reread of this year. I'm now wondering do I want to send these latter to a recycle place, cause like if I'm still alive in ten years maybe I might want to read them again? But they're available in ebook from the library, while Cabell isn't. Mh-- Kobo has a few titles but not the whole by any means. Ah well, shall see. There's only so much of Cabell's southern gentlemanship that one can take, and life is short.

I will say, getting up when you wake up does make for longer days. What a difference an extra 2.5 hours can achieve. Not that I achieved anything yesterday which was rainy most of the day and peak couch potatodom the rest. But today, even though I lay in to 10, got me to the laundromat with towels and sheets and that pair of putative corduroy pants that are still too stiff to wear comfortably. Repeated washing and drying in hot has accomplished nothing. Where are the soft wide whale cords of my youth? (Yes, that really is whale as in cetacean. How odd.) And they need to be shortened as well.

In between whiles I took my tax stuff up to the courier outlet to be FedExed to outer Scarberia. Hope it arrives and yes, I know I should have made copies of the one form that can't be duplicated easily-- from the bank, actually-- and I now know to add the accountant's phone number, but it is out of my hands no use wibbling etc etc. *Maybe* next year I will trust to the tender mercies of Canada Post for delivery because dear lord FedEx charges what dinner at Le Paradis cost me last time I was there. Even without getting a signature which is another $12 plus tax. 

However if it's all to do again no bother because I'm sure to get some kind of refund. Which may not be true next year because if I shake the money tree too hard, as I did in '21, there are capital gains taxes to pay. Should have shaken it when the Dow was at 50,000 but who knew someone would have blundered into an undeclared war?

I stayed up past 3 finishing that mystery that did exactly what I thought it would do, sigh. Slept for six hours and then suffered complete defeat of the will about getting out of bed. Went back to sleep at some point and dreamed of my godmother coming to see me at not quite!Bedford on a dank March day like the one actually happening outside. My back bedroom had a deck and wooden steps going down to the ground, and one of my Birkenstocks fell down it as I was saying goodbye to her. By dint of some Escher-like configurations my room looked in on the house next door-- in reality a good 30+ feet/ 10 metres away-- and its new tenants. That I did not sleep into noon was only thanks to misreading my clock.

After which I phoned three tree services to arrange estimates on trimming the cherry tree. One guy is coming Tuesday between 10 and 12, moan, and the others will get back to me at some point. I don't in the least want to do this at all at all at all, but it must be done and will definitely cost. Am feeling apocalyptic about everything so hell, let's spend money I may not have once Don the Con's shenanigans tank my stocks.

Once it stopped raining I went up to the tony wine store and bought a pricey bottle to thank SNDs for shovelling all that snow during this very snowy winter. When I explained what it was for, the clerk opined that it was very nice of me, which well. Not really: it's just the law of equivalent exchange that five years in Japan dinned into me. Or maybe it was something in my anglo TO upbringing, which I wouldn't notice because, well, that was simply the way the world worked. So I was confused by American roommates who didn't have the reflex that if you get you have to give. One of them did get set straight by her Japanese acquaintance but it was clear that the idea was completely new to her.

Now I just have to wait for the SNDs to be home. Oliver was zooming about the yard today in his doggie snowsuit, but I haven't seen him at all this week.

My occasional trips to Sushi on Bloor usually happen on Thursdays because I generally have physio on Wednesday. But my appointments have been on Tuesday lately for reasons I forget-- probably because everyone wants mid-Wednesday slots-- so I decided to eat out today. On the days they open at noon ie Weds-Sunday, 3:30 will get you the down time and a half empty restaurant, though not on weekends. Whether it's because Wednesday or whether it's because March break, the place was as packed as Christmas and for the same reason: parties of six or eight people celebrating who knows what. And no, no kids that I could see. It was a brief wait in any case, and I got my bento in short order. But my usual Thursday server wasn't there and I had to manage the doors myself. OTOH the waiter looked to be at least in his 50s, meaning possibly my age in reality, so I can't complain. Rather like the server at Le Paradis who, for all her energetic bustling, looked to be in her 70s. 'Why is she still working?' my s-i-l wondered. Well, times are hard, maybe someone called in sick, maybe she just wants to. I'd still be working if I was able-bodied,  for sure.

Seems I finished nothing this week except a couple if Dr Priestleys and that Agatha Christie on the weekend. Watched a lot of Tiktok videos, I guess. Finally made some progress with The Shadow of the Wind, a dead tree for late evening reads when I must be off the tablet. I am always subconsciously prepared for male Spanish writers to be unsatisfactory in their attitudes to women, especially Latin American writers. We shall see if this applies to writers from the motherland. After all, Don Quixote has a female character who simply can't be having with all these men projecting their romantic desires onto her, which I think very enlightened of Cervantes.

The weather page could say it was 10C when I left the house today but that was the chilliest 10C I've ever experienced. Nothing like a grey day and wind to make things feel like below freezing. Wore my winter coat and a scarf but thought I'd be OK with half gloves and no, I definitely wasn't. Had to wrap hands in scarf to keep them warm. But had chicken and vermicelli at Pour Boy, plus cocktail, then walked back up to Dupont because you're supposed to have a brisk walk after such indulgence. Did get the return to nephew's invite mailed off, though noticed too late that I didn't put my return address on the prestamped envelope. Ah well. Must trust the post office to be reliable.

The downstairs beanbag is not only the wrong shape for use on the back, being cervical,  the insides have finally become too scorched for use. I was googling 'back heating wraps' last night and finding nothing but amazon and temu offerings. This because I could never remember the name of the super excellent moist heat wraps I use for my poor twinging elbows at night. So to have it here, they're Thermalon, and they're Canadian, and I have a third one now on order from them so I needn't keep lugging one downstairs and back up all the time. I should have ordered two, in fact, and used the second for warming my bed at night. It's true that the aged shouldn't shower every night because lord but it dries the skin out, and washing of pits and bits is sufficient for the lethargic retired. But showers are the only way my feet get warm enough when I go to bed since my circulation sucks. Magic bags don't do the trick being again the wrong shape. But a large flat Thermalon might heat enough area to keep me warm.

Meanwhile the temperatures have sunk and it's now snowing again. March is still too early to be saying How long, oh lord, how long, especially since this summer is supposed to be a scorcher. But-- how long, oh lord, how long?

High winds last night had the odd effect of making my upstairs for once much colder than downstairs. Was resigned to staying in but the sun melted snow from the roofs so I decided to try my luck. And was very lucky. The salter bobcats came through at some point last night, leaving their tell-tale salter tracks on the sidewalks, and I could have done the walk in shoes. Anyway, now have potatoes and cheese for omelettes.  And will stay in tomorrow because we're due for another bout of snow, sleet, possible freezing rain, and rain rain as the temps climb to 10C/50F on Monday. The spring equinox is known for wintry weather here, and this year is looking to be no exception, even if a tad early. But all hail the March sun, which is at least warm enough to melt whatever March throws at us.

DW is hanging like a hanging thing. The Graun loads OK though my solitaire page doesn't at all. Maybe my connection is wonky, maybe greenfelt.net is having one of its periodic outages.

Bright blowy November day out there with swift clouds and the occasional snow flake tumbling from a blue sky. Snow tomorrow and on the weekend, so I went out to return Strange Houses to the five people waiting for it, and had-- err, whatever you call a 3 pm meal, the oposite of brunch: linner? at Sushi on Bloor. My waiter there loves me.  But my stomach must be shrinking. The small size sushi selection is too big for me now, and I must go to the three piece + a roll sushi appetiser.

Checked out the former By the Way which is now Brasserie Côte, having a soft opening with a menu that does not inspire me to go in. Apparently it has a sibling out Ossington way, a much smaller place with a larger menu which one hopes they will bring here. Although Côte de Boeuf's menu seems to run heavily to the same escargots and sardines and charcuterie as the new place. Well, brasseries are brasseries, but I was hoping for something a little broader. Which I must still go to Le Paradis for, the bro-tachi's local, even if it's not local to any of us. But their boeuf bourguignon is amazing enough to make the trip worth it.

And since I'll be housebound until Monday at least, I walked up to Loblaws for milk and such, and to my physio's across the street to get my receipts for tax purposes, and thus racked up 7000+ steps.

I have always wanted a bidet-- more so when I was younger of course, but still think it would be nice. Especially after reading articles about how tp really doesn't cut it. My bathroom is far too small for a real one even if my knees would permit it-- which they wouldn't. Happy ads say you can add a douche to your toilet seat-- 'So easy you can install it yourself!' Uhh no, I doubt that very much. But googling around I discover something called a peri bottle, for postpartum women. Details of same make me glad I never had children: there's a lot about childbirth they don't tell you in sex ed. But peris sounded reasonable for hygiene so I bought one (from amazon.ca, mea maxima culpa, because neither Shoppers nor Starkman's has them even if they say they do)  and will see if they make any difference at all. But because this isn't in any way a Japanese toilet with blowdry function, one must still use toilet paper, so what do these countries with bidets or bum guns or whatever use instead of that?

Finished Strange Houses and then went to the internet to find out what I just read. Internet was mostly reddit, whose black-out spoiler redactions do not appear when highlighted. But a lot of people had the same suspicions as I about the architect jumping at once to 'murderous child killer cult' while other people noted that that's just the way Japanese horror rolls. Which, fair enough. And also noted that what's important is once again the things not said, sigh. But the general impression was that everyone but the narrator and the architect are lying and what's actually happening is a conspiracy, yes, but not the one we think. Although people did seem to think the weird cult thing was true, which to me is, ok, if you say so. Do not think I'll be reading more of his work.

I know better than to go for a blood draw on a Monday especially a Monday when I've just lost an hour of sleep, but it's going to rain all week and then snow. So out I went at 10 new time and came in to a posted 45 minute wait. But I waited, and then waited some more when they called my name because they said the room available was too narrow for me. Told them I could walk without the rollator but they were all No no just wait. And when they called me again I went without my walker just to show them. But the nurse got my vein first try,  no having to use the other arm as in December, which is either her being more skilled than the other or my veins being pumped up from my water drinking. Whichever, I am grateful.

Could have done without the two large guys who barged into the elevator before I could get off it as I was leaving. Men, said Jessica. And am now headachy and am going out to dinner with bro and s-i-l tonight, but again, nobody made me get my draw this morning.

I spent the day, or most of it, in sweaty domesticity, which is not how I prefer to spend my days. But it was raining and cleanliness helps the megrims, so I doped my back up and took the couch apart so as to add some more cushions as I've been meaning to for a while. Am still not able to get up out of it without them. But of course this involved vacuuming everything, all sides, including the amazing amount of dust on the nether side of the cushions and the amazing amount of crap between them. Then got at the corner by the wall which was festooned with cobwebs and thick with dust because it's very hard to reach. Emptied cannister, drank 500 ml of water, then vacuumed the rest of the living room and the hallway. Some day I may get the carpet up and the couch pulled out to remove the dust elephants there, but that's a bit more than I'm up for just now. Lemon polished the wooden tables instead so they glow. 

Am not totally satisfied because there's still too many miscellaneous boxes and bags here. A bag of unwearable back braces that still don't fit, the plastic hooked hanging thingies I use for laundry between the furnace turning off and the cherries falling, and a pile of calendars I can't throw out because they're where I tracked my weight gains and losses. Maybe if I noted the general trends in a notebook somehow? This would be easier if I had a computer of some description.

Currently have some basmati rice cooking so I can have omuraisu tomorrow. And maybe tomorrow will get to the kitchen floor.

Yeah well, that art gallery isn't going to view itself, now is it? So I cabbed down to the AGO, which confuses me by having automatic doors for wheelchairs everywhere but on its outer facade. Kind people let me in, but yanno. Somebody wasn't thinking. And I know they used to have a button outside but Ghu knows what they did with it. Anyway, I then discover why not to go in winter ie you must check your coat and it costs $4. But these niggles aside, got in and saw first the David Blackwood exhibit, disquieting etchings from his Newfoundland past, of iceberg calves and baleen whales and sealers wrecked on ice floes and dying of exposure and cold. This was a famous disaster that happened in 1914 when 78 men died after being stranded on the ice for 53 hours in the middle of a blizzard.

https://ago.ca/exhibitions/black-ice-david-blackwood-prints-newfoundland

Maybe because I'm a Capricorn, maybe because I'm a city child, just about the most unheimlich thing I know is the ocean. Mountains are a close second: was fantodded by the Alps at the age of 9 and never grew out of it. But mountains are just earth stood on its head, and they're always in the same place; oceans are water that never stops moving and there literally is no there there. Anyway Nfld is an island and you can't get away from the ocean, but I can never understand why anyone would willingly go out on the sea that surrounds it.

Then got to the Jesse Mockrin exhibit, the one that closes on Sunday. She uses Renaissance techniques to paint pseudo-Renaissance subjects, many inspired by paintings and objects in the AGO's own collection. I like her paintings even if I suspect I'm not supposed to. But colour! She has colours! How could anyone resist?

https://ago.ca/exhibitions/jesse-mockrin-echo

The other trouble with going in winter is that one must wear boots, and boots are not kind to that pesky neuroma on the sole of my foot. So though there are other things I should have seen, I figured two hours was enough and headed home. Took the TTC up to Dupont, intending to wait for the bus and finish by shopping at Loblaws. But oh lookie, here's a Shoppers, let's get some garbage tags. Which they no longer sell. Online or at Canadian Tired only, and how lucky I didn't make a special trip to find this out. Then I look at Dupont which is one lane as far as the eye can see, because condos, and after that sewers, so hell, will not kill me to walk two subway stops. Except that it nearly did. But I have more cushioning pads for my feet, and if it gets as warm as they say it will, maybe I can be in shoes later on this week. Phone says this was all only good for 6000 steps, but will take it.

Once again world events interfere with my attempts to stop drinking.

But I vacuumed and dusted the side bedroom yesterday, which made me sweat mightily and left me unaccountably stiff this morning. But then I screwed my courage to the sticking place and removed the drawers from under the futon frame so I could sweep out the dust elephants of ages. I doubt I've done this since 2020, if then. Ideally I'd push the whole frame out to get at the underparts, but doubt I have the strength for that now. Even manhandling the large heavy drawers back in place was a challenge. As for flipping the futon itself, hahaha no.

And I feel so much better looking at the clean bedroom. Cleaning always works to cheer me, and it always annoys me that it works, but shou ga nai.

Would have gone out to buy those things I forgot to get on Friday through not remembering to bring my phone, but it snowed last night, enough to coat the sidewalk.  Mind, my stretch was clear because I put down salt yesterday evening against the plunging temperatures, and by day's end so was the rest of the block. But it's -6 with a wind chill of who knows what, so I remain indoors.

Dream last night of coming up my street, or maybe Christie, but there were two walkways-- the public one by the street and a private one, screened by bushes, that belonged to the (nonexistent) housing coop with its low buildings and green lawns that straggled up the street, clearly referencing the RL Bain Coop in TO. And very pleasant until a large dog came up behind me and either started nosing my bum or actually bit it, one or the other.

Enbridge did not email me a bill this month. No idea why not. They've also raised their prices. But this may explain why I didn't pay last month. I'd go back to demanding paper bills but they charge for those too. 

I am so over this winter. Was antsy about getting anywhere today with the snow falling all last night, which might have been why I had a nuit blanche and only got to sleep eventually by refusing to do anything but lie in the dark. After which I woke at 9:30 and reluctantly decided to forego sleeping in till noon. However the bobcats came by at some point and the sidewalks were clear when I headed out-- in a snow shower, yes-- at 2:30. But bobcats somehow manage to throw up an amazing number of pebbles, do not ask me how. No wonder I got one caught in the wheel back a bit. Only surprised it hasn't happened more often.

Came home to the wedding invite from nephew and fiancée, fastened with sealing wax and a seal with their initials. This takes me right back to the mid-60s when I used sealing wax that I can smell even yet. Still not sure if I can go to theirwedding: it's out in Oakville, which requires cars, and the reception is at a country club ditto, and there's an hotel they've booked for people who need to stay over. I believe my bro drove me to my younger brother's wedding nearly 40 years  ago, but he wasn't married then and I was able-bodied. There's an option on the invite for 'will toast from afar', which I may have to do.

As for reading: at some point finished Jurgen and started on Figures of Earth, and am questioning if I really need to reread these pale-printed volumes. Finished also Christie's The Clocks, and Joan Coggins' The Mystery at Orchard House, which stars not!the Dowager Duchess of Denver in a young incarnation.  Fun, but I do not find scatterbrained Lupin (!) as charming as her author does. Read a Dr. Priestley,  Dr. Goodwood's Locum, pleasantly twisty, even though I wonder if the murderer would be as adept at an English accent of the appropriate class as he seems to be, given that spoiler spoiler spoiler. Currently on the go have Closed Coffin, a Poirot continuation, which is... not quite what I want right now. Am at a loose end which may get sorted once I stop angsting about the weather.

Good heavens. Sun! Blue skies! Brightness! Yeah, I did think the leaden winter would bring me down forever for a bit back there. But of course, with time sense so wonky, it was only a week ago that we last had sun. But that was a pale washy sun and this is glorious gold and blue. Of course it's because a cold front is blowing in. Made it out to Fiesta without much pain: the flurries of last night were indeed flurries even if they coated the sidewalk.  But now must go down to the basement to turn taps on against tonight's -14C.

Long range forecast says things will warm up by mid-March. Really can't wait.

Was woken this morning before I wanted to be by a robo phonecall saying Pay your Enercare bill. That's my hot water heater. Bill comes in at month's end, I pay it immediately, what's your problem, Enercare? (I do not like them. Ages back I signed with them for my gas on an equal billing scheme and wondered vaguely why my gas bills were always so high, because I couldn't quite reconcile the total price with usage. Many many years later saw an article comparing prices and found Enbridge was something like 10% cheaper. Thus good-bye Enercare, except for the damned heater.) Tried to go back to sleep and was jerked awake by robo Bell phone call-- or someone purporting to be Bell-- saying technicians would be installing fibre optics in my neighbourhood please book your call now. I already have Bell fibre. Screw that. But by then I was completely awake, so started on my morning routine. Oh, and when I checked my bank account just in case, oops, looks like I didn't pay Enercare last month. OK, fine. Now paid up and another bill will come in Wednesday-ish.