February 21, 2016
I’ve decided to write my post earlier as tomorrow I have to leave the house very early in the morning and I am quite tired.
I started the day very early today and I don’t think that there was any reason for that. However, I woke up earlier than usually and Rex decided that he wanted his stroll at that ungodly hour anyway, so out we went and, as the weather was pleasant, the walk lasted longer.
On our way back, we met a nice old man with his little dog who showed more determination than any other dog I’ve ever seen. She, because it was a she, didn’t even care for Rex’s growls and theatrics – he pretended he wanted to maul her. Her mind was set: she wanted to play with him, and that was that. He had no chance. After trying to make her retreat, befuddled, he gave up and in spite of his antisocial streak, he played with her.
It was fun, I must say. It wasn’t fun when we got back home. I am pretty sure I have already mentioned that I hate housework. That’s what I did.
I decided to set the kitchen to its rights and to make it shine. I don’t know what came over me that I made such a decision. I hated every single moment but I also have a problem: if I start something, I have to finish no matter how much I loathe an activity.
So, that’s how my morning went by: slaving on the altar of cleanliness. And to think it wasn’t a mess to begin with, but when you start such a thing you have to go all the nine yards, from top to bottom.
Anyway, it’s behind and that’s all that matters.
In the afternoon, I met with friends and that restored my mood a little bit.
The only thing that went awry was the weather. It duped me. It lolled me into believing it would go on being warm and nice and, in the end, not even half an hour after I left home, the temperature went down at least ten degrees and a bitter wind started sweeping the streets.
Of course, I had left home dressed for a spring day. I got back impersonating an iceberg. I couldn’t even feel my ears or my hands.
If one lives in Toronto, then they might have to travel long distances to meet someone. I, for instance, had to take three buses each way.
Not too glamorous on Sundays. The TTC is not very prompt during the week but on Sundays, even the sporadic promptness flows out of the window.
The first bus I had to take was packed and not only with humans: there were also strollers and trolleys and suitcases. Every square centimeter was used at maximum.
Of course, as always, there was another bus behind and empty, although in service, but it didn’t stop because this one had already done it. I am pretty sure a few choice words ran through my head for the other driver.
At the first traffic lights, the two buses aligned and I could hear our driver telling the other one that he should start taking passengers because there was no space in his bus anymore. However, the second driver decided to do so only at Don Mills and that’s where I had to get off so I cannot say that I had any advantage in that.
Buses, as well as any other public transport means, are places where you can say you’ve probably seen everything. You can see people reading or eating or knitting or fixing their make up or even dancing. There are people having phone conversations for the benefit of an entire bus for instance.
I remember a few days ago, on the subway, at rush hour, when people can’t hope to find a seat but hope to find a spot where they could stand, I saw a lady lounging on two seats and looking at everybody meanly, to warn them away in case someone would point out that she’d need only one seat.
Now, I’ve seen women putting make up on the bus or train before. Today, I saw one putting make up on while driving. She was taking a left with one hand on the wheel and with the other hand was applying powder on her face, intently looking at herself in the mirror. I was very happy I hadn’t started to cross the street yet because I’d intended to do so as there was green for pedestrians.
However, that didn’t mean my entire crossing street activity was without danger.
Usually, young people are in a rush and mostly young men with sports cars – or at least, that’s the general opinion.
Today, though, I saw a lady, at least seventy, taking a left at high speed, narrowly avoiding me. I had the bad luck to be already at the middle of the crossing when she passed by. More interesting, she frowned at me as if I’d been in the wrong. Yes, I suppose I dared too much crossing the street when the light turned green.
So, a new week will start tomorrow with the dreaded Monday looming around the corner. This thought erased any other thought in my head, so, I will leave this post like this.
See you soon, I hope!
Born sometime in the past century, living in the 21st century.
Sometimes I have good ideas... (what do you think?)
Sometimes fascinating guests!
(that for sure!)
Sometimes I have to share some of my frustrations,..
(not too tempting, huh!)
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