![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Either Canada Post has taken to late night deliveries in order to catch up, or it has quietly reinstituted Saturday deliveries in order to catch up, but for certain my mailbox was empty late Friday afternoon when I came back from physio, and was full when I opened the door Saturday to watch for my Voila delivery. (It's not just the delivery guy, a second language speaker, who pronounces it Wulla. The ads do too, and it offends the French part of my genome no end.) The mail was all November stuff caught in limbo. My new credit card, thereby easing that anxiety. The Canuck dental plan telling me I qualify (thanks, guys) and that Sun Life will be sending me my card and paperwork 'within the next three months' (oh thank you *so* much. Yes I know why they have to go through an insurance company-- health insurance is otherwise a provincial responsibility-- but have we noticed that insurance companies are in rather bad odour these days? and isn't Sun Life the one currently diddling the civil service? Also I have a dentist appointment in ten days and hoped to be covered by then.)
More happily, Finder Jean's Christmas present made it though the one to my sister got sent back. I first thought it was an obi but no, it's a bag made from an obi, and is beyond elegant. I shall take it with me to the Art Gallery and other places that require you to check backpacks. Though it's actually quite big enough to carry a slim laptop if one were so minded.
A Nicholas Blake came in from the library finally and I was all set to sit back and enjoy it at my fave Japanese restaurant. But it turns out to be one of those 'international conspiracy to bring down His Majesty's government' ones, and though I trust it's not as batshit as any of Dame Agatha's, I can't be having with international, or even intranational, conspiracies, so back it went to one of the two people waiting for it. And then as I was leaving, my nameless friend the waitress who always opens doors for my walker came outside with me and confided that the restaurant is closing at the end of January. Rents on Bloor are too high, etc etc. I can't tell you how upset I am about this. New Generation has been there for decades and the staff know me and and and. Now would be a nice time to win that 60 million lottery that's going, but lottery wins don't happen when you need them.
More happily, Finder Jean's Christmas present made it though the one to my sister got sent back. I first thought it was an obi but no, it's a bag made from an obi, and is beyond elegant. I shall take it with me to the Art Gallery and other places that require you to check backpacks. Though it's actually quite big enough to carry a slim laptop if one were so minded.
A Nicholas Blake came in from the library finally and I was all set to sit back and enjoy it at my fave Japanese restaurant. But it turns out to be one of those 'international conspiracy to bring down His Majesty's government' ones, and though I trust it's not as batshit as any of Dame Agatha's, I can't be having with international, or even intranational, conspiracies, so back it went to one of the two people waiting for it. And then as I was leaving, my nameless friend the waitress who always opens doors for my walker came outside with me and confided that the restaurant is closing at the end of January. Rents on Bloor are too high, etc etc. I can't tell you how upset I am about this. New Generation has been there for decades and the staff know me and and and. Now would be a nice time to win that 60 million lottery that's going, but lottery wins don't happen when you need them.