flemmings | Entries tagged with rl

S-i-l was trying to remember the name of their usual and long-time server at Le Paradis and bemoaning the fact that age erases the ability to remember names. Bro knew what it was because, as s-i-l said, he has a sticky brain. Which he does. I forgot just about everything I studied in high school almost immediately, languages apart, but my brother remembers it all, all the outdated physics and chemistry and algebra and geography.

And I also forget names, both of people and of things. This led me to a great peregrination about Loblaws looking for uhh 'bug spray'. Various clerks opined it might be among the facial stuff, or maybe household stuff, or maybe that catchall by the automatic tellers-- which no, but that's where they keep the eyeglass cleaner I've been searching for since March-- or yanno maybe we don't stock it at all. Well, if they were thinking of Raid and its ilk, they probably don't, but I finally located the *mosquito repellent* down by the scented candles and household furnishings, which is dear god why? Loblaws is not an intuitive store, but seriously. You think I'll buy a pillow or chopping board while trying to find insect repellent?

Which I needed because the back garden is maybe not as much of a jungle as it has been but still contains the creepers and cherry stones of decades. I changed into long trousers and tucked the bottoms into socks, and sprayed my arms and neck with the stinky stuff and hopefully will have no bites tomorrow. And though it's coolish with a northern breeze I was still sopping wet after filling a bag with, well, cherry pits and vines and woody stems and squashed cherries. If the extension cutter weren't such an unwieldy beast I could actually have cherries because the branches over the back steps are untouched by bird or beast.

Laundromat achieved, yes on a Sunday because I am fearless like that. At 2 pm the place was almost empty so I was optimistic about scoring a dryer. Came back half an hour later and the place was full of guys and the guys were all emptying the dryers I swear weren't in use thirty minutes before. However, since they were emptying and folding their clothes, I got a dryer that was still warm, and now I have towels and face cloths and pillowcases to last three weeks at this time of year.

Then, because it will rain tomorrow, I went out and swept up all the twigs and leaves from the porch and the front walkway, which is a literal pain when your elbows start registering the humidity. And though I filled a bag, things really don't look much better. This I'm sure is because I sweep the detritus into a dustpan and empty that into the bag, and as always when you use a dustpan there's the line of dust/ seedlings/ whichever that doesn't get into the pan. Of course I could be like certain of my neighbours and just sweep it into the gutter, trusting the city to come clean it up from between the parked cars. I was astonished to note that the city does occasionally manage the feat, more or less: there's a car up the street that never gets moved and the weeds that grow in the never-cleaned gutter are halfway up its wheels by summer's end.

Also I was soaked through with sweat. It's not that hot and with the breeze this afternoon was quite pleasant, but gardening is work and work is sweat. But did unearth one red dustpan from under the pile of branches on the porch table, so there's that. Hope nothing bit me while I was doing this because I don't need any more skin tsuris.

Last night's excitement was opening the Kobo app on my phone and have it inform me happily that I have no ebooks. Yes, I had an account still, and if I try to buy again the book I wanted to finish (because this stupid tablet ran out of charge in its '23% one minute, 15% the next' fashion) Kobo said You already have it, wanna read it in your app? Yes I do, click on button, and once again am told I have no ebooks. Delete app, reinstall, and my books are back, only I have to download them all again to read them. Presumably this saves storage on the phone, but still. I did wonder if this was a trick to get me to subscribe to Kobo Unlimited because screens kept popping up pressing me to try the free month thingy and it was a pain getting rid of them.

But I probably need a new phone because the screen has a crack and may not be long for this world, so economy is advised. It's just, getting SIM cards out of an Alcatel phone is beyond me and was nearly beyond the clerk who sold me it five years ago, but I want an Alcatel. I know the system, they're cheaper than Samsungs, and I still resent having to have a phone at all.

Occurs to me that one explanation for 'why not light at 9 pm' is that, just as 5 pm in early December is darker than 5 pm at the actual solstice for some geographical reason I still don't have a handle on, so evening in early/ middle June is lighter than at present. The days may actually be longer overall now, but the hours of daylight have shifted to earlier. So I missed the 9 pm sun by about ten days.

The never-ending saga of dustpans continues. I lose dustpans almost as regularly as I lose bookmarks, pens, handkerchiefs, and socks. I know I have at least three red dustpans but can only find the kitchen one. The upstairs dustpan has vanished. The larger rectangular one that I use for sweeping up twigs, cherries, catkins, tree dust etc. is downstairs and staying downstairs because I will lose it if I take it upstairs and will never find another. So the kitchen dustpan is going upstairs to sweep the study and I must remember to bring it back to sweep the kitchen with.

Weighed myself yesterday and I have ballooned again, oh woe. Weighed myself this morning-- to remind me why I must not drink, especially not when using an antibiotic cream which for all I know acts like antibiotic pills-- and evidently dropped a kilo overnight. Which is nice but disconcerting.

Must get to the laundromat still. Is summer meaning I sleep on sheets with bare legs and feet and occasionally arms, means sheets must be changed once a week. If only the owner would fix his dryers... But have changed sheet and turned mattress so go me.

Saw the walk-in doctor about my still itchy leg-- and paid the cost of an hour massage for ten minutes of his time, which is half again as much as I was quoted two years ago-- to be diagnosed with cellulitis, my old friend from 20 years back. Obviously I absolutely must avoid getting insect bites. But also, apparently what you must not use on cellulitis is cortisone cream, so now I have something else instead. We shall see how it works. He did ask why I hadn't been to see my own doctor and I cited the distance and need for a walker, but should have said because her secretary still hasn't got back to me whenI called two days ago. Yeah, there's that.

The wind still gusts about which is fine by me. Keeps the city cool, though it nearly cost me my hat at the intersection. But it's such a waste: did a wash and had to hang it from chandelier and upstairs railing because birds and cherries. Also I'm wondering when we'll do the 'light after nine' solstice thing that I remember from the 90s, because we're within days of it and I'm sorry, but it's dark out there at 9.

The wind rushed around in the dirty town-- well, not that dirty perhaps, but certainly messy, thanks to the wind: twigs falling all about as the branches whipped in the gales. It rained all last night and was supposed to rain all today. Didn't, but the clouds were never reassuring so I stayed in. My green bin went out last night and was properly picked up at 9:30, but recycle has only once come before noon since it went private, so I held off on putting out the bulky sidewalk-blocking bin. Filled it up and set it out at 4, and the truck came by at 5:15.

I wanted to get to the laundromat but that wasn't today. I turns out that I have two clean bath towels so no pressing need there. I might want to do the tops that would normally line-dry, and use the laundry's dryers instead, but I don't have that many of those either.

Finished little last week. Platform Decay, and a John Rhodes set at the beginning of WW2, with civilian units readying to defend the possible landing stages of the enemy and put out fires from bombing raids etc. The blurb said it was a Dr Priestley only it wasn't. Did read one, The Motor Rally Mystery, which was nicely misleading especially for a Dr. Priestley. But mostly I played around with an Excel spreadsheet and my old calendars, charting the vagaries of my weight for the last fifteen years. Well, last dozen, because my entries became sparse once I began breakfasting upstairs in November of '21. I was surprised that I kept it up through most of 2022 but after that there's a sad falling off.

This week is recycle pickup so I went looking for pointless manga to throw out. The bedroom boxes are pretty much empty by now so I looked in the hall closet. OK, well, not my Onmyouji manga or Yomi Henjo whatever, baffling and annoying as all those are. But a bunch of Belne's version of swinging London for sure. Oh, and maybe some of those magazines stashed away in the long ago Canada Census bag. The Time magazine featuring Nureyev from 60 years ago, now crumbling to dust, and something from the 70s with a not safe for work cover, and some equally crumbling newspaper sheets, and the incredibly heavy French art magazines from, good heavens, 1951, I wouldn't have thought the country had recovered sufficiently by then to be producing luxury artifacts of the kind featured within, nope not throwing those out, and a Classics Comicbook (remember those?) of Rider Haggard's Cleopatra, which tells you quite as much as anyone needs to know about Rider Haggard's Cleopatra, and no, cozy afterword, I don't think I'll be reading the whole thing available in my school or public library. I mean, maybe people did: there was a time when kids read all sorts of things, but does anyone anymore?

But then there were two envelopes of photographs and my god, *here* are the photos I took on my first trip to Japan that I've been searching the house for these last twenty years and more. I take them out and... can pictures taken with a camera, an actual 'adjust the lens and viewfinder' camera, fade? My European pics from the mid-80s are still crisp but these are all dull, washed out, and every one of them has a blank dirty cream sky that leeches colour from the world: even the ones where shadows indicate that the sun is shining. Yes, yes, Tokyo pollution: but evidently Kyoto pollution and Kanazawa pollution and pollution from the Shinkansen windows.

My one hope is that these are the rejects, because I was sure I took more photos than these. But if so, why would I stash them in a safe place, and what happened to the ones taken on the sunny blue-skied days I remember?

Woke in grey darkness, so good, I can go back to sleep for a few more hours. Checked clock anyway and it was 11:15. Thus was inside all day while outside poured and rumbled, and finished most of the alcohol in the house. Thus diem perdidi, and what of it?

Texted with bro who'd promised to come round some six weeks ago and didn't. Says he still needs to grab stuff from the basement. Then suggested we go out to dinner now they have the cottage money, and I suggested Le Paradis' half price Monday, and he said he'd make a reservation for tomorrow. Only turns out everyone else likes half-price Mondays-- which I'm not even sure are still a thing-- so we're going next Monday instead. Pity. The state of the Everything has me down and I could do with some company.

May have to see my doctor which I don't want to, because it's an 80 buck cab ride there and back. But there's a rash on my left leg that itches infernally, and burns if I scratch it. My eczema cream calms it some but I'm not sure it's eczema. If only one were allowed to go to the convenient walk-in clinic up the street for minor stuff like this but no, if you have a PCP, your doctor gets dinged every time you use a walk-in. Way to solve the doctor shortage, DoFo. Your departure cannot be soon enough.

Another hot blowy day. Played clothesline bingo, got several tanktops and sleep bottoms out to dry/ bleach in the hot hot sun, and lost a tanktop and a shirt to the birds, not the cherries. The cherries themselves are beginning to both ripen and fall so that's it for clotheslines until maybe a month from now. Underwear of course is hanging from the living room chandelier and drying in the living room fan.

It felt hotter than yesterday, which is probably the difference between going outside at noon like today, and 4 pm like yesterday. But what I wanted was a Johnson cocktail-- that's gin, dry vermouth and sweet vermouth-- and I didn't want to go out to buy the fixings. So I put in an order with UberEats and all was tickety-boo until the very end when they wanted me to take a photo of my ID, take a photo of myself, and upload both. Previously it's been the delivery guy who photo'd my ID and in each case had extreme difficulty in so doing, so I was pretty sure I wouldn't manage it either. So hell, let's try SkipTheDishes, even if I keep having to correct my address with them. They said the Dupont LCBO has gin and sweet vermouth but no dry; the Bathurst outlet has gin and dry vermouth but no sweet. Uber said they could get both. Yeah, and both Skip and Uber's interface lagged like a lagging thing. The hell with it, I said, and closed the browser. Johnson cocktail erases the owies better than anything but my system really hates it, a fact I tried to ignore.

SNDs were out back gardening. He-SND was hacking away at the great overgrown clump of vines on the fence between our yards, with a battery operated trimmer and a manual hacksaw. And even with both those and a male's upper body strength was finding it hard going, so thick are the stems now. I have a bigger trimmer that might work but I've never used it in the seven years I've had it and discover that it needs some assembly. Also an outlet and extension cord, of course.

But tomorrow will be rain all day so no gardening happening. I slept with just the fan last night but am not sure that will work tonight: and I did keep waking up sweating. A modest hydro bill came in last week and I overpaid 300% so maybe I can afford the luxury of a window AC, especially since next week is forecast to be window fan cool at night.

Today was indeed much drier than the rest of this week has been, but I only discovered that when I went out on the porch to meet the UberEats guy. Naturally I'd meant to go to Sushi On Bloor, but one of our flying squadrons did a sonic-booming flyby just as I'd intended to leave, in honour of the soccer match playing down wherever it was. And since I didn't know whether it would be air show boom boom boom for a half hour or not, I ordered in. In the event it was only the one, but still. Safe than sorry.

The traffic was probably still impossible an hour later because my courier apologized for keeping me waiting. Maybe he's one of the few delivery cyclists who drives in the street and not in Bloor's bike lanes, or maybe he had other deliveries, because no one in their right mind would use the traffic lanes on Bloor on a Friday if he had the option of the still crowded but moving bike lanes. But he's also one of the couriers who is overcome by a reasonable tip-- thanks me in person and then messages to thank me again. There are a million delivery guys downtown but there's always a chance that they might remember me and grab my order the next time, like the friendly taxi driver who always picks me up from the dentist.

And we tied the match with Bosnia-Herzegovina. I had to tell my Korean physiotherapist about Bosnia-Herzegovina because the name was unfamiliar to her. Not that I know much myself. The name always has Saki/ pre-WW1 vibes to me.

Sleeping with the window AC on has two drawbacks. The first of course is the reluctance to get out of bed, but that's by now a constant with me which the coolness only adds to. The other is the pillow of heat that greets you when you walk out of the house. But today was definitely hotter and more humid than yesterday, even if the lying weather page said 'current temp 25, feels like 25.' No it does not. It feels like mid-30s/ 90F and steamy with it. Went to Fiesta for sundries like milk and soy and potatoes which I will run out of by the weekend, that I won't want to shop for in the weekend crowds. And came home as thunder rumbled on the left. I assume it also rained, which merely added to jungle soup. Lying weather page says less humid tomorrow but I expect to be indoors with fans for the next few days.

I've dropped a fraction of a pound since Monday but I feel much flabbier. Am making an effort to do the spot exercises I did happily all winter while waiting for eg water to boil or beanbags to heat-- marching in place or toe tapping or whatever-- that heat and June made me disinclined to. I'm not going for long walks (or gardening) in this weather so I must move otherwise. But I really don'wanna.

Nicholas Whyte strikes me as a reasonable person so I don't understand his distaste for the Murderbot novels/ novellas. He says it's because he hates cute robots. Which is exactly what Murderbot isn't. But he liked the series. Because he could regard Skarsgård as a human being? No idea. I've only seen short clips of it, but I really disliked the whole 'space hippies' wrinkle. That's not at all what they are. And then all the side plots to give the team back stories, presumably to make them more individualistic and create dramatic!conflict where none existed in the books. I sort of see that, yeah, to Murderbot the others are just clients distinguishable from each other only in broad outline, and you can't express that sort of affectlessness in a visual medium. But oddly, the more often I read the books, the clearer the individuals become to me; and all the angsting in the TV series feels, I dunno, both contrived and unnecessary?

Very warm dry blowy day, bearable enough when just going out to physio. But in the evening, heaving to the curb three bags of garden waste and one of garbage had me running with sweat. I've never needed two showers a day since I got back from Japan but evidently we're at two showers a day now, unless I go back to sitting on the sofa with beanbags and the fan on. I have vacuumed the downstairs and swiftered the kitchen-- which is not enough: must take a brush to it square by square, ouch-- so maybe I can couch potato until Sunday when it will be cooler.

Don't think I finished anything new last week. All I want to do is read Murderbot, so I finished my reread of System Collapse and then went back to my favourites, All Systems Red and Exit Strategy. Will finish rereading Platform Decay now that I've found where I put it along with the bag for carting my breakfast upstairs. And ohh do I miss the convenience of the bar fridge now we're in 'everything hurts all the time' mugginess. One of those tiktok medical reels had a 'doctor' cautioning seniors not to jump out of bed the minute they wake up because... heart attacks, I think, or was it stroke, from changing position too quickly. And guy, who the hell jumps out of bed at our age? Am recalling an interview with William Hutt, one of (our) Stratford's warhorses, who came out of retirement to play Lear when he was in his 80s. He described getting up as a process of first flexing his toes, then his ankles, then his feet, then bit by bit the rest of him to make it movable, and *then* he sat up and got vertical. I'm not there yet, but I'm also not in my 80s either.

T'other day when I was shopping for berries, Some Man parked his cart in front of the section and proceeded to examine the plastic clam shells one by one, opening each and inspecting it until he found, I assume, what he wanted. This was a new trick by me, and, since people who believe themselves to be the only person in the universe are annoying, an annoying one. I know people will open egg cartons to check for intactness, though you don't really need to count them, as I saw one woman doing. Like, the box says one dozen and you can see all the eggs are there, so umm why are you counting them?

Joke was on me of course, because when I went to wash my raspberries last night, most of them were mouldy. Lesson learned, which is mostly, don't buy your fruit from Loblaws.

Warm and muggy today, and less wind than recently so the mug registered. Did bag up the vines from yesterday's endeavours, which filled a bag to capacity. Seems I wore a hat yesterday too and took it off at some point and then covered it with vines and forgot all about it. Ah well. It could have used a wash anyway. Sweated through the everythings, of course, and must drag bag around to the front before the rain starts.

An oddity I never noticed in my forty-odd years of acquaintance with Turandot. The three ministers's song, which is possibly my favourite bit, starts with the dreamy Ho una casa nell'Honan, con il suo laghetto blu. Uhh,, since when has blu been an Italian word? But it is: adopted at the end of the 17th century. Has to be a loan word, surely, but what did Italian use for deep blue before that?

Today was cool-for-June which means muggy. I would have been perfectly happy sitting on the couch, only what I did was go out and hack vines in the back yard. I had this brilliant idea of buying a 100 ft extension cord and taking my hedge trimmer to the great growth down by the garage. Which might have worked if I could get the uhh female end of the cord into the prongs of the trimmer. But I couldn't. Not enough upper body strength to push it snug. So I attacked them with the edged saw with a handle thingy, and slew them in great numbers, and filled a whole garden bag: and sweated several litres of water out of me. This was after I'd had my shower, naturally.

Then went up to the LCBO for vodka because everything hurts in this weather, and Farm Boy for dinner, various items from their Moroccan menu except they thought a Moroccan couscous would be improved by corn, most jnauthentically. Which I can't eat, of course. So I picked the niblets out as best I could but that put me off the thing

Came home, drank a cooler, went out to retrieve my tools: and of course had to hack away at more vines even though I know mosquitoes come out in the evening. It's going to rain the rest of the week, starting tomorrow night, and I want to get the uhh tree dust, whatever that is properly called, swept up before it all turns to paste. And I need more garden bags, though I finally figured out how to get them open. Upend them and put them over your head, and bang the unmoving last foot from inside. I'm sure it looks odd but it works.

But now I need another shower.

Cool(ish) and dry and breezy, so did a coloured wash and hung it on the line. The cherry has its usual little green olive-like fruits, and lots of them, so this may be the last line dry for a month. Tomorrow should be more of same and possibly even cooler, so shall tackle the backyard vines. I cut them back last week and they took that as encouragement to grow another foot, light green fronds waving in the wind. It's a never-ending battle.

Put out the records no one wanted two weeks ago and someone wanted them today, so yay. Someone left the box I had them in, which is also yay, but that's because I include a couple of the reusable cloth bags all stores and food delivery services insist on giving you, to make carrying the records off more convenient. Must pull more records from the bunker, since I'm convinced their weight has contributed to that jerry-built addition's sinking.

Still fan weather because house holds mug, but may get by with just the window fan for the next night or two.

Two lost days. Neither of which was *that* hot, really. I did get out to the nearer super yesterday for... I forget what, actually. Well, berries: but because Fiesta's rasps and blueberries are all Product of USA, I had to get Ontario strawberries instead. Well, and strawberries are OK, but they don't go as well on cereal as the other.

Ran the AC for a few hours yesterday evening, after which I was fine with just fans. It rained last night and steamed, but today was all blue sky and wind. I know parts of the Open Tuning got cancelled when the probs said thunderstorms and rain all today, so no family parade about the 'hood, but the rest was presumably a go. Only if it actually happened, it was very quiet, for which I am grateful.

Did weigh myself this morning, have dropped the surplus surplus 4 lbs/ +-2 kg from cream liqueurs, must work on the rest. But still feel bloated and achy, and my right knee does not like me at all.

Today's Big Excitement was losing my house key, the one on the Hakkai keychain, not the one with my Kryptonite lock key that lives in my backpack. I carry Hakkai in whatever pocket is available, unlock door, and lay him/ it down on the kitchen table after putting backpack on the kitchen chair. But today he/it wasn't on the table, or under the table where things sometimes fall, or under anything else on the table as so often happens. So I went out, leaving the door on the latch as I used to do all the time, and wondered who of the various people I've given keys to I could hit up to get my key back. What I really minded was losing Hakkai, but oh well.

Not to keep anyone in suspense, I did find him/it when I got home, in a pocket in the backpack that I'd looked in before.

Went out for sushi but had salmon teriyaki instead-- the teriyaki dinner, not the lunch, because the lunch gives you fruit (cantaloupe and orange) that I don't really want. But the dinner has huge helpings of both salmon and veg, more than anyone can eat who isn't an adolescent male. So now I have dinner for tomorrow as well.

The day was pleasant and breezy and not nearly as hot as certain weather pages said it would be. Since I was already at Bathurst and Bloor, I thought to suss out the newly reopened Markham St part of Mirvish Village, whose towers are mostly responsible for the day's breeziness. Signs advertise the businesses that will locate there, and evidence (trash cans) suggested that the famous pizza place was already open for business. At present it's the only one, located I *think* where the old Victory Cafe was in happier times. I won't be trying it out because both its doors are up a flight of concrete steps. This is all new construction and they could have put in a ramp but of course they didn't. Markham used to be a shady street but most of the trees fell victim to construction of the towers so now it bakes in the sun. Wind tunnel or no, that block no longer invites the pedestrian. But I turned onto the little cross street that takes you west and that was shady and filled with flowering bushes and green grass, just as in the old days when I used to bicycle home from work along its length.

I will eventually learn to read all the info provided before buying clothes. Old Navy's cotton tops are distressingly thin for autumn or winter wear but, I thought, might do well in summer. My tanktops are all thick cotton and I have to wear them with something that covers my arms, which is generally another thick cotton something, and so I sweat in TO's summer humidity. The (palest pink and easily stainable) tee I bought earlier is certainly thinner than my other ones, so maybe they'd actually be cooler than tanktops? Men's t-shirts of course, and they're on sale in colours men don't often wear, like burgundy and saffron, that don't show splashes nearly as much.

They arrived yesterday and were indeed lightweight. Wore one today in the humid sun and thought them a little unbreathing. Yeah, is because they're 97% polyester. When you buy cotton t-shirts, make sure they're really cotton. But they'll do for actual t-shirt weather, I suppose. I have two cotton tees that are useless because they have Japanese logos on them and can't be worn to any of my Korean-run restaurants. Shall gift them to some clothes depot probably, to make room for the new ones.

Meanwhile my final property tax bill arrives. I know the second bill has included increases in the past, only these last few years the final installments have been lower than the first half. But not usually $110 a month lower, which was an extremely pleasant surprise.

Memory goes with heat, so I only know I've finished a couple of Dr. Priestleys this week, and The Eagle of the Ninth, which I finished today. Still rereading System Collapse and Platform Decay, the former as hard to envisage as ever, the latter making much more sense. No idea what I'll go on with: summer is line of least resistance when it comes to reading, and I'm pretty much all out of Cecil Street and his various avatars.

Woke at what I thought was 9:30, didn't want to get up then so floated for a bit, then did All The Exercises, then went downstairs to get my breakfast. And the kitchen clock said 9:30. Battery must be dying, I thought, but the second hand still ticked away happily. When I got back upstairs, yeah, kitchen clock was right and I'd been awake since 8:30. Hence why I'm yawning at 10 p.m.

Well and also because I did indeed wash the stairs today, even if I had to stop halfway and take muscle relaxants for the back. I think the candle wax stains are there for good even if I scraped the actual wax off. Unfortunately used the wrong Dr. Bronner's so the house now smells of tea tree oil. But anyway, stairs are as clean as my arthritic elbows can get them.

Midafternoon I took a load of towels and pillowcases and fleeces to the laundromat, so that's also out of the way. Must go back eventually to do a cold wash of the velour throw that I use on the sofa in winter, which is too heavy for my ancient washing machine, but that can wait. And finally went out in the evening coolness and cut down more vines from the back fence, which I will bag up eventually. Daytime temps and humidity are rising so not going to do this during the day, but we're at the happy time of year when it's light after eight and I shall make the most of it. I heard Oliver barking indoors, oddly enough, because he's usually out in the yard. I fancy SND is away, possibly getting married, and she has a dogsitter in. Certainly I haven't seen him running around his yard lately.

So though I much prefer sitting on the couch with the fan and beanbags, I think I've moved sufficiently today.

Today is sunny and cool, or cool in the shade at least. The sun is June hot but the sky is the deep blue they photoshop into the background of picture postcards. This is extremely rare in downtown TO. The rest of the week will warm up but I see rain forecast for Saturday ie Open Tuning wall'o'noise day. Naraba ii, says the grinch over here.

Having gardened on Saturday, Sunday I did nothing but medicate the aches and stiffness with beanbags and vodka. Today I have at least done a wash and hung it on the line, just as SND's tenant is drying hers in the back garden. I might even get at the stairs (inside) with the scrub brush I just bought, though I forgot to buy rubber gloves, and my eczema'd fingers are really not up for dipping in hot soapy water. Must hang my Pride flag as well, but my legs are once again not steady on step stools.

Did at least locate System Collapse in the safe place I put it, and have started a reread. Especially as the word is that System Collapse (ETA Platform Decay, of course) may be the last Murderbot installment, alas and οτοτοι.

Lovely cool sunny day, perfect for gardening, which is what I did. Filled up a garden waste bag, cleared maybe two square feet of ancient desiccated vine runners, cut back the other vines that insist on growing atop the fence. Cutting back only encourages them, I know, but what are you gonna do? Also tried cutting back the linden's lower branches out front with the extendapole cutter, which is a bit unwieldy with my lack of arm strength. I could have sworn the thing was telescoping and could be pulled out to several feet more but I can't see how.

Newly resoled shoes do seem to help my balance, but to get at the backyard vines growing along the wires I need something stable to lean against, and the fence isn't it. Shall have another stab at it tomorrow

The cobbler said, "I'll text you when your shoes are ready." So I wait two and a half weeks with not a peep. Go over there today and of course they've been finished for ten days. Men, said Jessica. But he shined them up beautifully as well as resoling and mending the heels, so fine. The new soles don't have the trademark New Balance declivities and I wonder how they'll fare on, say, wet leaves and other slippery surfaces, but maybe now they're flat again they might help with the perpetual low back tsuris.

Warm but windy today, so didn't feel the 27 it actually got to. I've been putting records into bags to go out on the front lawn tomorrow. Wondering if I should in fact buy a record player to listen to them again, but enh. CDs are easier to handle. There are record players that will turn vinyl into digital music, but I don't have the technical knowledge to play digital. Are Ipods even a thing anymore?

Cool sunny breezy day, such a relief after April's rain and May's occasional heat waves. Unfortunately breezy also means pollen blown about, so I have the sneezy spells and scratchy throat that pollen brings. Ah well, there's always a price tag.

Did a white wash and put whatever wasn't underwear on the line. It didn't quite dry-- those socks are thick-- but will dry in tomorrow's sun. Must get at the vines in the back garden which are happily growing along the clothesline , the Bell line, and the line that provides light to the garage. Getting at those will be a challenge because my back hates me. Heat wraps and vodka may be required.

But fingers crossed, the malaise seems to have gone, unless it comes for its one week anniversary tomorrow.

It's not hot-hot, is in fact warm and breezy, but I've started a phlegmy cough and still don't feel 100%. Have also misplaced my muscle relaxants so the back is chronically unhappy unless I have heat on it, which is fine except the house is also warm. And psychologically I think I'm still suffering from that outage on the weekend, even if it was only half an hour. Or am suffering from the outage because the booster was already preparing for me to feel lousy.

I still went out to return library books and have salmon teriyaki. Came back and hauled the garden waste bag from the back yard to the front and topped it up with leaves from the planter and the truly amazing number of twigs that the linden sheds whenever there's the slightest bit of wind, never mind the tempest of Saturday. Then bundled up the larger branches and dead wood from the hedge, tied them with string like you're supposed to, and put that on top of the bag to discourage the damnable dog walkers who think garden waste bags is where their dog poo bags belong. They'll probably put it in the green bin instead, but at least there there's a chance the garbage guys will take it.

Weight climbs back up and ankles swell. Need to add at least one more pint to my water drinking. Warm weather at least prompts me to drink more water.

Finished Platform Decay, after doling it out in increments to make it last, and have started it again to see if I can make sense of things this time. Though I really should reread System Collapse to remind me who some of these people are. Finished a Miles Burton and a John Bude, both with period racism rottit. Am working at The Eagle of the Ninth. But warm weather is not kind to me and summer is always a lost cause for any kind of thinking.

I sincerely hope the low grade but persistent malaise of yesterday and today is fall-out from the Covid shot, because otherwise I would despair of me ever accomplishing anything again. I did clear some greenery from the back yard yesterday but my footing was worrisome and then I could barely climb the steps to the back door porch. Mind, it would help if the right side handrail was actually nailed to something. I think some nails have worked loose there and three uprights are no longer in contact with the steps.

There's something growingout of the wall by the basement steps and from the leaves I think it might be a lilac bush. Am not going to cut and bleach it in any case but will be glad if it eventually gives me flowers, and never mind what it does to the cracking concrete pad.

I hadn't booked physio this week from excess of caution re: side-effects, also the only opening she had was at 11 tomorrow and I had no confidence about being awake at that hour, let alone mobile. But a 2:30 spot opened today and I grabbed it. Dunno if her acupuncture can unbloat my heat-bloated ankles, but it might. Of course much of the bloat is from drinking cream liqueurs and adding poundage, which yeah.

Malaise means I don't want to read anything so must take that Scandi-thriller back to the library. I have The Eagle of the Ninth which I somehow never read, but I don't want that either. Bad Things are happening and I don't want to be around for them.

Occasionally the universe pays its debts. Last night the FB group for the next neighbourhood over had a post about 'anyone else experiencing a blackout?' and people saying yeah, big tree fell down on Huron. The wind yesterday was something else and the Annex trees have been around since my childhood so whenever there's appreciable wind, down they or their branches come.

At which point the lights went out in my house. Hydro map showed two areas of blackout now with estimated restoration at, ulp, 6:15 Sunday morning. I'd been saying No I won't turn on the furnace for a mere 10C it will be 23 on Monday, and now, boy did I regret that. But anyway, got my phone flashlight to locate candles and matches in the kitchen and went upstairs, dripping red wax all the way oh dear.

Got the big flashlight from the side bedroom, changed into winter-weight sleeping gear (flannel pants, thick hoodie, wool socks), assembled winter cocoon in bed (two wool blankets plus duvet), crawled in and resigned myself to sleeping at 10 p.m. And was drifting off when the lights came back on. Looked at the outage map and there was still that large purple blob over Seaton and the western Annex but it stopped, dear god, halfway up my block.

Now you must understand that my block is always, and I mean always, the last one to regain power in a blackout. In 2003 the block south of us had power 12 hours before we did. So this unexpected blessing was, well, unexpected. I know they replaced the problem transformer at the end of the block, reducing chronic outages to mere blips, but this is a different order of competence. Though if the map was correct, the part of the block where the transformer is was still without power. Whatever. I'm still grateful.

I think SND may have had a party on her porch to celebrate. Certainly I heard talk and laughter from that side and I doubt they were in the backyard where the rain was still falling heavily.

After going to bed at 2 (Platform Decay kept me up) I was sure I'd sleep into at least 11 and must remember to get up then to be mobile before Turandot at 1. But no. Wide awake at 8:30 and couldn't go back to sleep even in the grey rainy light. This isn't a usual side effect of my boosters, quite the reverse. But anyway, I was awake and too bad. Also indoors all day because the rain never stopped and I'm currently fighting the urge to turn on the heat. We'll be back in the muggy 20s by Monday.

Turandot was OK. One can't blame singers for not being Sutherland and Pavarotti, but when you've imprinted on them no one else quite reaches that standard. I fancy half the appeal of this production is the over the top Zeffirelli sets. Still photos make it look fascinating except-- well, even my extremely amateur eye thought 'Surely you're mixing Tang with Qing here?' Yeah, I guess he was trying for anything remotely Chinese to suggest a fantasy country that never existed. And I ought to prefer that to historical accuracy which grounds the action in a real China of whatever description. But speaking of imprinting, my first Turandot was set in basically an Apocalypse Now nightmare land: dark, muddy, heads on poles in a jungle setting. Very id-tastic and much my preference.

And anyway, isn't the original story Persian or Russian or something?

Water meter man was booked to come 'between 12 and 4" ie that's it for Friday afternoon. Of course I was up at 9:30 to be exercised and fed by 11:30 when I limped down to the basement to see if the area was clear and the unused light would provide sufficient illumination. And then at 11:45 he calls to ask if I'm home and can he come now. And because people are people he has a flashlight that lights up everything in a five foot radius including the dark basement stairs. All done and dusted by 12:30 so I can trot up to Loblaws for more Robax heat wraps which are better than alcohol at calming my irritable back. Pricey and can only be used once but so worth it.

Had a cold brew, watched the world go by, and was about to leave when I remembered about that covid booster. Uhh yeah. And am not doing anything this weekend which will rain all tomorrow and do who knows what on Sunday, so might as well. Apparently I was supposed to be boosted back in the fall-- twice a year for the infirm elderly-- but I don't remember seeing any signs for it. Anyway, am now Moderna'd and free to have any side effects I choose.

Did debate buying more vodka but no, alcohol rots the brain and I have my heat wraps. Treated myself to a slice of strawberry rhubarb pie instead, very satisfying. I do love pie.

It being sunny and cool and Thursday, I went over to Sushi On Bloor to see my regulars and spent the time eavesdropping on the couple off to my left who were code-switching in English and French, almost from sentence to sentence. I know a lot of Francophones here can do this, largely because they must, and I assume these people were Canadian. Their French didn't sound particularly Québecois but there are plenty of other local accents, and their English was bog-standard Canuck. But I'm still very envious. I could only pick out words of the French conversation because wherever these guys originated, they had the true French speaker's trick of skipping from consonant to consonant like stones in a riverbed.

Went by the library to pick up a hold and to photocopy my tax return and the application for deferral of property tax. I think I now know how to use the library's machine. Scan library card, enter pin, select number of copies (two of each because I am terminally belt and braces), then press preview. Librarian says that's just to be sure you have it in right, and yes, I've messed that bit up before. Then copy. Some day I'll manage to get printing from the net down as well.

Came home by various backstreets and noted the many many gardens awash in lily of the valley. I am desolate to learn that it's an invasive plant. I mean, it invaded an awfully long time ago-- it's a flower from my mid-century childhood-- so you'd think it would be naturalised by now. I have a bunch growing between the paving stones jn my backyard, which has never happened before. And finally, half a block from home, I came across my first Tesla in the wild. Dear god that's one ugly car, and I speak as one who knew cars in the 60s and 70s when cars were as weird as they get.

We have definitely changed seasons now, after three days of high 20s. The temps may be back in the teens but it's a different teens. Windows open, fans on, t-shirts almost too warm, no need for jackets. I mean maybe tomorrow's forecast 10/50 will feel cold but if it's sunny then it will still be warm. This is when one stops dreading the gas bill and starts dreading the Hydro. But all the lilacs are blooming up and down the street, which is the smell of May.

Can't think what I finished last week aside from a Desmond Merrion or two. Am currently hacking my way through two supposed mysteries, both in translation. Open Grave by Kjell Eriksson is all about an associate professor heartburning over a colleague getting the Nobel prize, being neurotic about What's He Really Thinking About Me, and generally getting in the way of the plot. I don't know if anyone is going to get murdered or not-- the title would suggest it, but so far everyone is safe as houses. Eriksson has this annoying trait in common with Robin Hobb, that he talks too much but one can't skim his prose, meaning that it's like wading through molasses.

Then there's The North Light by Hideo Yokoyama, which is all about an architect who designed a family's dream house, his crowning achievement. But then he finds that no one moved into it, and that the couple who commissioned it were in fact divorced long before they consulted him in spite of presenting themselves as a happy family with three children, and that the father has vanished from the apartment he was living in by himself and no one knows where he is now. Architect naturally concludes that this must be a long-considered plot by the father to ensnare him into.... something. This is getting into Strange Houses territory of 'why would you automatically think *that*?' Unless this is just another case of The Japanese Are Like That and it has something to do with homogeneous cultures being able to pick up on clues invisible to yer average gaijin ie me.

Also a lot about Bruno Taut, last seen in Broken Homes I believe, and his chairs. Or chair. Architect thinks Taut's chair is the key to the mystery.

But between neurotic Swedes and neurotic Japanese I'm tempted to DNF both and take them back to the library. And to forge ahead with Murderbot. Just, first reads of Murderbot are both high anxiety and high confusion for me. Anxiety because bad things are going to happen oh no, confusion because I can never visualise where Murderbot is and what it's doing at any time. And must remember that Murderbot is an it, Alexander Skarsgård notwithstanding.

No, today was no cooler than yesterday. Didn't think it would be. Stayed indoors with the fans and various library books, and the dinner I got from Farm Boy's buffet yesterday. Some very good chicken pot pie, veggies, and a bit of basmati rice with raisins. I might go for it again tomorrow if it doesn't rain too much. One webpage says storms and 31C, the other says occasional rain and 25. Eeyore believes the first.

Dusk draws in at 8. I expect the fireworks will start soon, but the fan will drown them out.

Woke at 7:30 because the air purifier stopped suddenly. One of our famous Sunday morning blips. Lay in the dark waiting for it to come back on, except it didn't. Got the Hydro outage map on the phone but it showed nothing, presumably because no one had reported it. Tried to file a report with unanswerable questions-- are the street lights out? No idea: the sun is up so they're out-- and got an error message when I tried to file. Was getting into a bit of a state because blips usually only last a minute or two. At long last thought to try turning on a light, and there we are. From which I learn that the purifier, unlike the window fans, will not restart automatically once it's been stopped. A nuisance but at least it's not a major outage.

But then I was awake at this unearthly hour. Went downstairs to get breakfast, gritted teeth and stepoed on scale, and yes: cream liqueurs and chocolate covered pecans have done a number on me, aided a bit by summer water retention, but mostly overindulgence. Cannot quit alcohol yet because nothing else works for the back spasms but shall confine myself to vodka and fruit juice.

Today was supposed to be a reasonable 20/68 but we're in the high 20s already. They say tomorrow will be slightly cooler, which I doubt, but in any case have put off gardening in favour of sitting in front of a fan. I have a new acrostics book which is at least slightly better than tiktok videos, especially since their algorithm is now giving me AI slop and transphobes.

"You can schedule your meter change online." Well no, in fact, you can't. I filled in all required fields only for the interface to spit me back out for no reason. It might be that masses of people were also filling the form out but I doubt it. Because when I had recourse to "call a real human being" I was only on hold for a few minutes-- well, after the prerecorded spiel went on and on and also suggested I book online-- until a well-spoken young man came and took my details and scheduled me for next Friday. So that's done.

Did what is probably my last dark wash of the season and put it out on the line. Great drying weather today: sunny, breezy, warm. SND's basement tenant also had her laundry out on drying racks in the back yard and sat out reading on her phone, which had the virtue of keeping Oliver more or less quiet. He wss growling at something in Good Neighbour Chris' yard-- probably a squirrel-- but at least he wasn't barking at me.

Apparently stores are allowed to open on the holiday Monday now but I don't expect any of the ones near me to. Thus I stocked up at Fiesta for this and that, which should see me through till Tuesday.

The notice comes that they're now replacing the defective water meters, please book a visit by our technicians by scanning this QR code. QR codes are the pits. I don't have Parkinsons but no way I can hold my hand steady enough to capture the code. Bleh. Will do it online.

Grey day feeling a lot cooler than the temps said. Am cold here in my house but hot weather is just round the corner -- Monday and Tuesday to be precise-- so I won't turn on the heat. Tomorrow might get up above 16 and if the sun shines I won't need either the jacket or the long sleeves I did today. Got the Butterfly book back to the library, got a bunch of summer clothes I will never be thin enough to wear again to the clothing depot at the Orthodox church, had marvellous salmon teriyaki at Sushi on Bloor. Teriyaki is sweet and I shouldn't eat it but it definitely makes salmon palatable. Way back in the 80s I was tested for allergies and one of the things I was intolerant of was salmon. Also rice. Which actually is true, though I think I'm less intolerant of rice when it's become a resistant starch.

When I woke up this morning my air purifier was making an appalling racket. Except it wasn't the air purifier but the bar fridge, whose motor was in its dying throes one more time. But last time it did this there was no death rattle, so I think now it must truly be foutu. The rattle stopped when I turned it off and then back on, but the fridge definitely wasn't cooling anything. So now I must get my breakfast from downstairs again. I try to tell myself that I did this on an unoperated knee five years ago, but I was also a good twenty pounds lighter five years ago. Oh well. Shall be doing All The Exercises before breakfast again and hope that works.

Bar fridges don't cost that much but hiring people to carry the old one down and the new one up does. Next door's owner did it last time but I haven't seen him in several years and don't quite feel like relying on the kindness of strangers. I went off and booked me a massage to help with the owies instead.

Then took my shoes over to the repair place. He says he can mend the fraying back heel as well so I said OK, then it turns out it costs $80 just for that and 120 for the resoling. With tax that comes to the cost of a new pair. I hesitated for a second but ultimately decided that no, I didn't want to give more money to the Trump-supporting founder of New Balance-- mend the damned things and hope they last another ten years. In the meantime I'm wearing my older pair of boat shoes, which are slightly too narrow even if they're boats, but feel like they actually give me more stability when standing on uneven ground. If true, I might even get some of those vines out of the hedge, which I can't reach from SND's side.

Eventually got myself downstairs this morning after virtuously exercising for half an hour and doing 2.5 Squaredle games, at which I remembered Oh yeah I was going to take my shoes in to be resoled. But having learned to be cautious, I googled John's Shoe Repair and of course it's closed Mondays. So I did a white wash instead. Which turned into a pink wash because I thought washing coloureds in cold wouldn't make them bleed and there was this pair of red pants that I will never fit into that I intended to launder and donate. I don't actually mind the bleed-- underwear and socks, who cares?-- because I also washed a new off-white t-shirt, and a pale pink shirt will show the dirt much less. Or the food, rather, because what stains my shirts is things dropping from the chopsticks I can no longer manage with my arthritic hands. I was tempted by this clothing brand since it seems much thinner than the other t-shirts I have, the ones that can only be worn in a very narrow window of temperatures ie between 17 and 19C. Anything more and even tank tops start to be too thick.

Hung the laundry that wasn't socks and underwear on the line and then left it there. Tomorrow will be equally as blowy and dry as today so if it gets damp overnight it will be dry by tomorrow afternoon.

Finished Emilie and the Hollow World which was well enough, though I couldn't figure out how the hollow world works. Also I suspect that Martha Wells is like Mary Renault in that she does first person infinitely better than third. Her third person narrative style reads tapwater to me, whereas no one can mistake Murderbot's voice for anyone but Murderbot.

Had another stab at making potato croquettes. This time I sauted the onions until they caramelised which definitely helps the flavour, but only chopped the potato, my elbows and my blender not being up to grating. So I had to cook the potatoes a bit along with the caramelised onion, and when steaming in water didn't work, dumped the remainder of a bottle of Pepsi into the mix, just to add to the sweetness. Then blended the mixture which wouldn't blend until I added more liquid which then made it into soup. Flour and egg helped but this is still not optimal. Presumably I need a proper food processor but frankly it's not worth it. Potatoes and oil are not supposed to be in my diet anyway, even if it's olive oil.

The thing about lying in of a morning, quite apart from 'if I get up I will hurt', is that it takes me forever to get to sleep at night: which is very frustrating, the more so in that I no longer have stories to tell myself while lying awake and sleepless in the dark. But in the morning I need only close my eyes again to slip back into the shallows of sleep, usually to dream that I'm looking at my clock to see the time, but never mind. If I like I can go easily into deep sleep and have those realistic resleep dreams that will often stay with me once really awake. This morning's was of my friend B gone back to being a director instead of a lawyer, who'd been hired to do motion capture for some film, something he admitted he'd never done before. But he wanted me for one part, to do the motion bit and speak the lines, not sure if I'd be right for the part. With reason: it was a 10 year old Black boy. But there I was at the studio at night, far out on some subway or railway line, and his wife had made goodies for the cast which was nice, and there were two babies and their mothers who were also there for the film. But then I was trying to get home and trains were cancelled and I couldn't get the timetable and it was a frustration dream after all, so I woke up instead.

I put a Robaxacet heat patch on my back, went up to Loblaws and got some pseudo-Bailey's, had a glass, and then tackled the front yard. Cut down twigs and vines and bits of hedge and scooped up a lot of dead leaves from last year. Came in, had some more booze and ibuprofen, went back and put it all in a garden waste bag. I trust the exercise will balance the calories. There's more to be done but my back hates me doing it. If the left side is feeling no pain because of the heat, the right side will start to spasm. This is annoying.

Meanwhile Ima-sensei is getting into some dark and heavy subjects. We've already had Grandma tricked into wearing a cursed kimono, not to mention being badgered by her two oldest daughters to sell the house and land and divide the proceeds up among her children. This in spite of a formal quit-claim (I believe is what the Japanese means) signed by all of them when their father died giving up all rights to the place and glad to do so onaccounta the bogles that infest it. Presumably they now think that if the house is demolished the bogles will disappear. The bogles are emphatic that they'll do nothing of the sort. Building a house on a burying ground has nothing on building a bunch of manshons on Kagyuu's kekkai in the back garden. But the aunts are being seriously interfering all through this book. Like telling Ritsu he can't be a grad student, he must take the job offer from the seriously sketchy real estate cum Shinto priesthood firm he gets involved in in the first story. Are we menopausal or what?

Then in the third story, the second son one never hears about has cancer and is undergoing chemo and keeps dreaming of the youngest son, the one who drowned as a boy, calling to him. I still ration myself with this but boy do I want to forge ahead.

My new air purifier is excellent. Lovely white noise and, I assume, lovely clean air. Must still vacuum the bedroom sometime because even with furnace filters, dust comes up the heat vents. Which are still in use with our lows of 5C/ 40F.

I wasn't going to go on with the new 100 Demons but I started on the first story, every bit as confusing as the start of the new Murderbot except with Ima Ichiko one expects to be confused, but then it went into one of her trademark 'something is very off here but no one in the story seems to notice' and I had to go on. It had an Arthur C Clarke moment--if it was Clarke-- where our protags are going up flight after flight of stairs and ending up at lower and lower levels of the building, so they decide 'you go up and I'll go down and if one of us finds the main floor, yell.' So Ritsu is going down in the dark and he hears footsteps coming up towards him and it's his companion, whose up has taken them down again. 'We must be dead and this is Hell!' So of course I had to finish it, even if a whole bunch of things weren't explained to my satisfaction, including the Moebius staircase which actually exists in a real building. Which presumably intersects the Twilight Zone.

Meanwhile someone in my S'pore gangster novel has been kidnapped and to torture her the baddies douse her in cold water and bump the AC up high so she suffers. 'She had never been cold before,' says the author, a state which qualifies as hellish to this Canuck. Cold water or no, I doubt any AC can get anywhere under 15 or 16C; its not like you've been dumped in a snowbank.

In further 'cast not a clout' news, today was grey and windy and so cold I had to get out the winter coat and scarf and gloves. By the time I was finished with physio the sun was out and then the coat was too warm. Toronto, as ever.

Came home to a reminder to reregister for the Canadian Dental Plan which involved jumping through more hoops than I care to remember, but every step of the way involved entering yet another confirmation code. I think I racked up eight by the time I was finished, and wondered how dyslexic people manage this. The insult to injury part was that to set up an account with the program-- which I was sure I already had because how else would I have my current insurance?-- you need to register through a bank account. An online banking account. Which naturally everyone over the age of 80 has. And you need two ways to confirm your gov't account because just answering questions won't do. At least they weren't asking for biometric evidence, but one was a QR code, what I've never got the hang of, which also involves the cell phones that all seniors possess, and the second was a technical something I'd never even heard of. Managed it in the end but left a really snarky review when they were brazen enough to ask for it.

And no, there was no option for a paper form of any description. My curse upon the shrivelled soul of the technocrat bureaucrat and their blinkered view of how the world operates.

In reading I probably finished more Priestleys and Merrions and kept on with When They Burned the Butterfly. Began the new Murderbot and eventually got out of the hard to follow (for me) descriptions of space stations and cargo modules and hoppers and what-all to the actual plot. This requires most of my attention so 100 Demons is on hold, at least as far as upstairs reading goes. Downstairs I'm still working my way through When They Burned the Butterfly aka 'life is cheap in the east' aka maybe modern day Singapore's police state isn't that bad after all. The body count of the various gangster orgs is really high, like war of attrition high. Maybe that was policy? Mind, since we've got gods and magic all through this, perhaps there never were gang wars in 60s Singapore.

Ebook library-wise I sent the unfinished The Burning Court back to the 'one person waiting' and hope they have a better time with it than I. I started dragging my feet when theses amateurs began talking about doing an unauthorised exhumation from which these amateurs would deduce whether Uncle was poisoned or not. Good luck, chaps. This is forensic medicine which none of you know. I have Emilie and the Hollow World to be going on with for phone reading in coffee shops, which we will see.

Grey and blowy day when I did nothing but rescue my laundry from the basement and sit on the couch with vidka and beanbags. The cherry petals begin to fall in the breeze and polkadot the mudroom roof. Somehow I am going back thirty years to that similar grey cool May just back from Japan. It wasn't a better time, no matter what I think of it now. Was, in fact, nearly as traumatic as the present, except that I'm well acquainted with the present traumas and then I wasn't at all.

We are at the pale green, pale blue, and blossoming white stage of May. Today was warmer but breezy so it didn't feel as humid as 20C usually does. I slept in till noon, ordered in dumplings midafternoon, and didn't get out until nearly five. But managed two of the foot-draggers. While waiting for the delivery guy I got last year's leaves out of the garbage bin and into a garden waste bag, and managed to add some of the thin twiggy branches as well. This evening I got the air purifier out of its box, read the instruction book, and got it ready to go. Apparently if it makes noise there's something wrong with it, but we shall see. Anything that catches dust and pollen is a good thing.

My census form arrived today, or rather, the code needed to fill the census online did. They don't give you much lead time here: thing is due in eight days. You must apply for a paper form which I really doubt will reach you before the 12th. Heigh-ho. We must live in the future whether or no.

I took my tipsy self to bed last night without looking at the time but am pretty sure it was well before my usual hour. Woke briefly at 2 something, then slept until 6:30, and then couldn't get back to sleep. That common wisdom of every hour before midnight counting as two may well be true because I was awake awake, even if heavy-eyed and yawning through the morning. Did get to see a marvellous sunrise all gold and blue behind the cherry blossoms doing their winter snow routine, which was nice, but not nearly as good as three more hours of sleep would have been. And I ached all over all day in spite of physio and acupuncture yesterday. Consequently have accomplished very little: got milk from the super, washed dishes, and vacuumed the living room because bro proposes to visit me at some point next week and the carpet was disgustingly dusty.

Really hope I feel better tomorrow.

Month's start is a good time to check one's weight so I did, and my cake and vodka habit has only cost me an extra half kilo, which is heartening.

So I started out early afternoon to do All The Things what I actually did not want to do. Returned library book; got cash from the BoM; got small envelopes for tips etc. from Midoco-- only not the ones I wanted because the only ones they had were a luxury brand coming in at $20 and tax. Got smaller brown envelopes instead, probably intended for change, but will hold a bill no problem, and I'm sure the delivery guys don't care. They'd probably accept naked cash if I could overcome my conditioning to hand it to them. Then tootled over to the Spadina Shoppers PO and was almost there when someone called my name-- my former coworker G fresh from the daycare. So we spent a few minutes catching up, now that half the people I knew have retired and G has become the Grand Old Lady of the place. But I discover that Baby Zoe from the early oughties has become a mother! of two!! and is now pregnant again!!! with twins!!! The math is not mathing here because I make her barely 23 if that, and I (and her mother) come from the generation that didn't start having kids until their 30s.

And then was the foot-draggiest chore of all, mailing a parcel to Japan. And I will never ever send any parcels from that outlet again. Because: I sat down with my phone and my data and filled out the online customs form with my fumble fingers, and corrected the many mistakes because Japanese addresses have a lot of numbers and m-dashes that fumble fingers mistype. Then took my package to the desk where he asked me to read him the address that I'd put on the package because it wasn't like a western address and the machine couldn't handle the information. And please write my return address there as well, even though all this info is on the declaration, and read my address to him while he entered *that*, and then he tried to scan the customs code I'd generated and couldn't, even though it was right on my phone and not a screenshot like the last time I tried it there. So he enters all my customs info manually and if he can do that why am I generating customs codes in the first place, sheesh? But the thing has gone off and I hope will arrive and this was all infinitely easier when I could write it on a form.

So then I went and had sushi and two glasses of wine because Maido's five ounces is nowhere near that.

After which I wanted to grab the subway home. But no, screw courage to sticking point, and down Spadina I go to pick up the new Murderbot. Reason I drag feet over these things is that doors are an unmitigated pain to open with a walker, often requiring the kindness of strangers, and doing this over and over gets wearing. But since I was there, I went over to Robots Library to look at the sakura. Which are sakura, no complaints but no big deal, and anyway everyone was taking selfies. I suppose selfie takers are better than drunken salarymen doing o-hanami, but they still don't count as an aesthetic experience.

It was now too late to get the subway: rush hour on a Friday, so I started back and made the mistake of going into the Metro super. Mistake because Metro has éclairs and so of course did I. Eclairs are always a disappointment since they never come anywhere near the Platonic form of an éclair but I keep hoping they will. Anyway continued on, working off that indulgence, and for my final trick, went into the dollar store that will soon move out to Pape. More doors that others had to open for me, and no space inside because it's chockablock with the everythings they sell, and I had to fold the walker out of the way and stand unsupported in line. But I got two pairs of cheap dollar store glasses-- exactly the same as what Loblaws has for four times the price-- and needed them because I sat on the side bedroom pair the other day and flattened them, and the Loblaws pair is wonky. So the day ended in triumph and over 7000 steps, go me.

Not that I read much last week. A Dr. Priestley, a Desmond Merrion, and Murder After Christmas, where the family can't inherit because one cannot profit from a crime even if the criminal is now dead. So that's settled. Am loose-endedly embarked on another Desmond Merrion, another oogie-making John Dickson Carr, and still hacking through When They Burned the Butterfly, which one must not abandon for too long because the twists and turns are twisty and turning and I am apt to forget who certain people are. Which is a problem when they subsequently get killed.

But! My reading will definitely pick up in the near future because my 100 Demons arrived from Finder Jean and the new Murderbot arrived at Bakka, which I hope to get to tomorrow after hitting the Spadina post office.

I got my garbage out last night but was hit by extreme don'wannas anent the garden waste, especially the pile of branches and twigs that needs to be tied up. My lower back has been spasming any time I get into shoes so I sit on the couch with hot beanbags rather than do anything constructive. However I did make it out to the laundromat today, so at least have clean towels and face cloths and one clean sleep hoodie. I'm not saying that showering at night, every night, might make my hoodies smell less because, clean or not, I still sweat and sweat still smells, as does hair after a day or two. But I'm not going to shower every night and turn into a prune, and certainly am not going to shampoo more often than every third day because my hair falls out sufficiently as it is. I shall just keep on washing my hoodies. And maybe buy a new one because the super-excellent dollar store where I buy these things on occasion is closing and moving out the Danforth. Landlord wants to raise the rent from 22000 a month to 28000-- yes, commercial rents on Bloor are ridiculous-- and the one at Pape will charge half of that. Of course, I suppose I could go out to Pape myself, now Christie has elevators.

Not really a Great Big Transit Adventure this time because I wimped out and cabbed down. Possible rain, possible subway tsuris, and in the event, College blocked off for filming who knows what. Cost me a bit more than usual because I had no fives and because Construction bloody everywhere. Anyway, one crown and one filling later, I set out towards University as the film crews packed up their vans. There were one or two small problems like the machine not accepting my bank card when I went to top up my Presto pass but then doing it, and the gates not wanting to open for my card but then doing it. 4:30 is the start of rush hour and yes the car was packed but the hell with it, I put the brakes on my rollator and sat on that. Again, knew better than to try for the e-w subway and hoped the Dupont station's elevators were working, because I knew two of the escalators weren't. But no problems there either. No bus scheduled for another 22 minutes, but there's the Shoppers handy so got my mailing envelopes. Eventually, because guy at the head of the line was requiring all sorts of things, and the clerk apologized to me for the wait. Mind, with People These Days (signs everywhere saying harassment will not be tolerated, meaning people have been harassing) this may now be standard operating procedure.

So I headed back towards home, hungry because my mouth was still frozen and she said not to eat for another two hours. Got to Bathurst and decided, since I'm awash with money just now (tax refund arrived yesterday) to get me party sandwiches at yuppie Summerhill market. And OMG have the prices gone up. $25 for a box with minimal salmon pinwheels. I got the $16 common or garden variety which was still too much and nothing out of the ordinary. However they're soft, if tasteless, so that was dinner. But shall not be going back there anytime soon, and not just because of the prices. Place was full of yuppie moms and their impervious offspring, both of them being the only people in the world. Also a store that has to hire a security guard is not anywhere I want to be.

I was looking out the study window at the newly popped cherry buds waving in the evening breeze against a blue van Gogh sky when a movement down on NND's lawn caught my eye. It was a rabbit. I have no idea where it came from or, for that matter, how it survived the neighbourhood raccoons and coyotes, but there it is, nibbling the grass. Granted, there was a rabbit down at the corner two years ago, but... that was two years ago and there are a *lot* of fences between me and the corner. Ah well. A mystery for the ages.

Last week Good Neighbour Chris' cat was out on its long leash, enjoying the air after a winter of being cooped up. But it had got its leash wrapped around the water shutoff on the grassy strip between myself and NND, and freaked out when I came to unwind him. In the process of going round and round the shutoff on an ever shortening leash, it managed to decapitate three daffodils, which are now sitting in a jar in my kitchen. The shutoff is supposed to be flush with the ground but isn't, and is supposed to be my shutoff and isn't either. Mine is under the paving stones of NND's front path. NND will be moving out in August because the owner has sold the house and I'm trying not to fret about what will move in instead. I am Old and do not like things changing around me. There will be renovations as well, which may be minor or may be a whole new third storey like Prof Islamic Studies had to deal with for a year and change. Must be Zen about this.

Had an ebook come in, The Hymn to Dionysus. Got two chapters in and sent it back because Bad Vibes. Nothing good can come of Dionysus even in a retelling and frankly I just don't trust Natasha Pulley to make him palatable. When They Burned the Butterfly may be oogey in its own way but it's a Singaporean oogey and I can deal with that.

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 and 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 upstairs 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 be done about it. The upstairs tablet holds a charge much longer than the downstairs one, which is perpetually running out of 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.

I spent large chunks of today cutting down garbage trees both front and back. I don't know what they are but I want them gone. The gardener was supposed to have removed them three years ago, but garbage trees are like cockroaches. One is never rid of them. A machete would have come in handy but the nameless tool with a serrated blade did well enough. I've cut the garage ones back to the root knot but have neither the strength nor the inclination to dig those out. I will try the effect of bleach instead. After which I was hacking away at the overgrown vines on the fence by the garage when SND's fiancé stopped me. He says there are birds nesting in the thicket, so I had to stop. Apparently by the end of May they'll have hatched and then he says he'll cut back the branches for me. He was out with my tree branch lopper, which he managed to assemble for me, cutting the cherry branches on the other side of his yard, the one belonging to Good Neighbour Chris.

I did manage to cut some of the dead and dried vines off the fence closer to the house, but my back was in conniptions by that point. Came inside and stretched, and shortly thereafter tackled the things growing in the front yard. This was much antsier because the footing in front is so uneven, what with the invasive species Eglish ivy. I begin to think boat shoes ie my New Balances, are maybe not the best footware for this, though I can't think what is. Something lighter and flatter that registers the ground underfoot better. But again, sawed down some quite thick stems leaving only the root knots, handy for tripping over should you be wading about my front lawn. Then took out some of the dead wood from the hedge, and finally sawed through the branches of the very dead pine in the corner of the planter. Sawing all this wood to an acceptable length for the garbage guys and tying it up as you're supposed to will be a pain, but sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

I expect to be crippled tomorrow and might try for a massage. Can only hope this counts as exercise and calorie burning.

So evidently any caffeine after 4 pm results in a nuit blanche. In spite of early-for-me rising yesterday, I was wide awake past midnight. Gave it darkness and beanbags and the old college try, but no luck. After an hour I gave up, turned on the light, and read Zen Cho's The Terracotta Bride until a quarter to four. Turned off light, eventually drifted off, and was awake at nine. And awake awake. So today has been something of a bust with every joint aching into the bargain. I miss the days when I could fall asleep just reading in bed. This I suppose is how the insomnia of old age works for me.

Reading on through the Phaedo, I am not impressed by Socrates' argument that everything arises from its opposite and that life must come from death.

Now to her lap the incestuous Earth
The son she bore has ta'en
And other sons she brings to birth
But not my friend again.

Socrates believes in a soul, an ego, that simply cycles through the cycles while I semi-Buddhistically think that's nonsense. There is no I in Buddhism-- though how then do people remember 'their' past lives? However I'm with Stoppard's Guildenstern: Death is not anything. Death is not. It's the absence of presence, nothing more. A gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes no sound.

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.

Evidently walking 7000 steps leads to, conservatively, eleven hours of sleep, if we suppose it took me over an hour to fall asleep, which I don't think it did. So I finally woke up well after noon and forewent my usual exercises to have breakfast instead. But did them afterwards because heavy rain meant no going out. So I am stretched and no less limber than usual.

Succeeded in one long postponed task, which was sweeping the basement stairs, something I've probably never done since returningfrom Japan thirty years ago. But six years back when next door was moving stuff into my basement my s-i-l cleaned the place up and my did it make a difference. So I've known I should do it but I've never been happy on the stairs since tripping on them last year. However, did get them swept off, with my backyard broom because basement dust is nasty, and need only bring a dustpan and garbage bag down to dispose of the piles. Which will do when I rescue the laundry I did today after it dries in the furnace's heat. Furnace is still not on because temps won't drop until the wee hours, but have bumped the thermostat up to 15 so I won't freeze in those same wee hours.

Profile

flemmings

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

The rodents are running hurrah! hurrah!

Entries tagged with rl_26

Expand Cut Tags