(no subject)
Tuesday, August 9th, 2022 10:01 pmAbout those water pills. Sometimes they do absolutely nothing, and sometimes, like yesterday, they remove nearly three pounds of water weight. Effective but harrowing and making me wish, yet again, that I'd gone through with the rebuild in 2005 and put in a downstairs bathroom.
Cooler today but humid with it, so various joints ached. And for no good reason, a glute muscle had conniptions and was only happy when it had a hot pack under it. I still trudged to the library for my holds and then up Bathurst to get gin and food. Ko's does a very nice burger, I must say, and a Long Island iced tea let me limp back home without too much pain.
On the way a delivery guy stopped me to ask was this Yarmouth Gardens, and I said yes it was and he said But the street sign says Yarmouth Road, and I said Yarmouth Road starts at the next corner, and he said But the sign at the corner *said* Road and my phone says Gardens, and he shows me the map with his car coming down Manning and making an illegal left turn onto Yarmouth Gardens. As I'm trying to explain how it works, an Amazon guy shows up with another delivery for Yarmouth Gardens and first guy is all justified 'They got the road sign wrong and my phone is right.' Mh well. I walked on to the corner of Manning. Of course the sign on the right hand corner as you come down Manning says Yarmouth Rd. There's no sign on the left hand corner because the street is one way no entry and motorists have no need to know which street it is. And though I said four times that Rd starts after Manning, guy kept repeating 'the sign on the corner said Yarmouth Rd.' Sheesh. But also why the hell did his gps tell him he could make a left onto a clearly marked one way street, and why did he enter a clearly marked one way street after looking at the signs, and why are Toronto drivers Like That?
Anyway today was sort of a bust moving-wise, but I did change my sheets and did talk to SND's gardener (name of Rebecca, here noted for future reference) about what to do about the spindly hedge. Apparently hedges have a limited life span, especially if you neglect to trim them. (The one down the street belonging to the odd Italian grandfather is thick and pristine, and has been for 34 years, because it's clipped regularly. The south side of mine used to be the same when Papa Pisani was alive to trim it, but he's been dead for decades.) Rebecca thinks also that the north side of the hedge might be as sparse as it is because it gets no sun, partly from being in that direction and partly because the ironwood's branches shade it so thoroughly. We will wait and see how it acts next spring because maybe now that it isn't chock full of deadwood, things might start growing.
The odd Italian grandfather has an enclosed front porch. The porch has multiple windows but the windows all have shades so it's always dark inside and, I suspect, hot as the hinges of hell in the summer. He sits there in the dark and groans, and has been doing that for 34 years. It's a bit unnerving to have that sound suddenly emerging from the darkness until you get used to it. There's now another oddity up the street at the corner house on the other side. I thought it was a cat in heat wandering the extensive property, but it's a middle aged guy who sits on the porch and yowls in Cat. No cats answer him, but that doesn't deter him.
Ah. Because the allergies are deadly this year in spite of masking outdoors, and because the strangle cough is back in a big way (still not as bad as when I was working in our moldy daycare, but requiring hot beanbags at night to soothe) tonight I broke down and had a gulp of my codeine cough syrup. Which has had its occasional side effect of gentle euphoria and well-being, so I think I'll go to bed while the euphoria lasts. Night, all.
Cooler today but humid with it, so various joints ached. And for no good reason, a glute muscle had conniptions and was only happy when it had a hot pack under it. I still trudged to the library for my holds and then up Bathurst to get gin and food. Ko's does a very nice burger, I must say, and a Long Island iced tea let me limp back home without too much pain.
On the way a delivery guy stopped me to ask was this Yarmouth Gardens, and I said yes it was and he said But the street sign says Yarmouth Road, and I said Yarmouth Road starts at the next corner, and he said But the sign at the corner *said* Road and my phone says Gardens, and he shows me the map with his car coming down Manning and making an illegal left turn onto Yarmouth Gardens. As I'm trying to explain how it works, an Amazon guy shows up with another delivery for Yarmouth Gardens and first guy is all justified 'They got the road sign wrong and my phone is right.' Mh well. I walked on to the corner of Manning. Of course the sign on the right hand corner as you come down Manning says Yarmouth Rd. There's no sign on the left hand corner because the street is one way no entry and motorists have no need to know which street it is. And though I said four times that Rd starts after Manning, guy kept repeating 'the sign on the corner said Yarmouth Rd.' Sheesh. But also why the hell did his gps tell him he could make a left onto a clearly marked one way street, and why did he enter a clearly marked one way street after looking at the signs, and why are Toronto drivers Like That?
Anyway today was sort of a bust moving-wise, but I did change my sheets and did talk to SND's gardener (name of Rebecca, here noted for future reference) about what to do about the spindly hedge. Apparently hedges have a limited life span, especially if you neglect to trim them. (The one down the street belonging to the odd Italian grandfather is thick and pristine, and has been for 34 years, because it's clipped regularly. The south side of mine used to be the same when Papa Pisani was alive to trim it, but he's been dead for decades.) Rebecca thinks also that the north side of the hedge might be as sparse as it is because it gets no sun, partly from being in that direction and partly because the ironwood's branches shade it so thoroughly. We will wait and see how it acts next spring because maybe now that it isn't chock full of deadwood, things might start growing.
The odd Italian grandfather has an enclosed front porch. The porch has multiple windows but the windows all have shades so it's always dark inside and, I suspect, hot as the hinges of hell in the summer. He sits there in the dark and groans, and has been doing that for 34 years. It's a bit unnerving to have that sound suddenly emerging from the darkness until you get used to it. There's now another oddity up the street at the corner house on the other side. I thought it was a cat in heat wandering the extensive property, but it's a middle aged guy who sits on the porch and yowls in Cat. No cats answer him, but that doesn't deter him.
Ah. Because the allergies are deadly this year in spite of masking outdoors, and because the strangle cough is back in a big way (still not as bad as when I was working in our moldy daycare, but requiring hot beanbags at night to soothe) tonight I broke down and had a gulp of my codeine cough syrup. Which has had its occasional side effect of gentle euphoria and well-being, so I think I'll go to bed while the euphoria lasts. Night, all.
