Nightmare on Earl Street:
Walking into 262 Earl on May 1st at 9am, we were greeted with scenes from a horror movie.
I swear, I could almost hear the screeching strings of a symphony in the background.
That's probably a tenth of the total crap that was leftover in the house, including a literal mound of beer bottle caps stashed behind the TV stand and a non-working washer in one of the bathrooms. It took nearly 7 hours to clear all the crap out of the house before we could pile any of our furniture into the living room before sorting out which things belonged to which of the 6 of us. Locals were picking through the mountain of junk outside the house throughout the whole day. (A couple of them were quite the characters. I'd like to imagine that they are junkyard millionnaires.) Add in old landlords who were more broken records than people, a U-Haul trailer (instead of the truck we were supposed to get) we had to return by 2pm, a new landlord who wanted to do everything on his own, trolleying boxes to & from old & new houses, moving out old furniture from the old place onto the lawn, an upset stomach (from that cursed package of smoked salmon in the Watts fridge), icky & unusable washrooms & showers, and you get about half of my day.
I stayed in Kingston 'til the next day, unshowered & unbrushed & unclean. Mmmm. I did so much moving & lifting & packing that day, I felt like quite the man. My arms & back & muscles were certainly bruised & aching & sore by the end of the day & night.
Things are pretty smooth now. New carpets were installed in each of the bedrooms. My room's quite put together & homey now. Renovations are being done, slowly & surely.
I admit, I wanted to escape that chaos. So I caught the 3:15pm coach bus to Toronto on May 2nd. And as I was sitting in the taxi on the way to the bus station, I thought about how things could've been much worse. Things weren't completely tumultuous the entire day. There were moments of rest, breaths of fresh air, dry spots during the tempest & thunderstorm. Like George, the nice carpet cleaner guy. And the girl's family who was moving into my old place. And Benita's dad(!) And how it didn't rain during the day, only at night. And wings at the Brass. And 41 Clergy for their clean, usable shower. And our subletters were patient & understanding.
Home has been a luxury since then.
I just sit on the couch in the living room with my sisters & I know that I am blessed.
Time, that fleeting phantom, elusive & writhing.
It's been seven days, since that move-out & move-in.
And I can't believe I'm leaving for Europe in less than that amount of time.
Thoughts & emails & prayers & preparatory steps have been occupying my mind & time.
I may not finish the short story in time. I'm not bringing my laptop across the ocean anymore.
I swear, I could almost hear the screeching strings of a symphony in the background.
That's probably a tenth of the total crap that was leftover in the house, including a literal mound of beer bottle caps stashed behind the TV stand and a non-working washer in one of the bathrooms. It took nearly 7 hours to clear all the crap out of the house before we could pile any of our furniture into the living room before sorting out which things belonged to which of the 6 of us. Locals were picking through the mountain of junk outside the house throughout the whole day. (A couple of them were quite the characters. I'd like to imagine that they are junkyard millionnaires.) Add in old landlords who were more broken records than people, a U-Haul trailer (instead of the truck we were supposed to get) we had to return by 2pm, a new landlord who wanted to do everything on his own, trolleying boxes to & from old & new houses, moving out old furniture from the old place onto the lawn, an upset stomach (from that cursed package of smoked salmon in the Watts fridge), icky & unusable washrooms & showers, and you get about half of my day.
I stayed in Kingston 'til the next day, unshowered & unbrushed & unclean. Mmmm. I did so much moving & lifting & packing that day, I felt like quite the man. My arms & back & muscles were certainly bruised & aching & sore by the end of the day & night.
Things are pretty smooth now. New carpets were installed in each of the bedrooms. My room's quite put together & homey now. Renovations are being done, slowly & surely.
I admit, I wanted to escape that chaos. So I caught the 3:15pm coach bus to Toronto on May 2nd. And as I was sitting in the taxi on the way to the bus station, I thought about how things could've been much worse. Things weren't completely tumultuous the entire day. There were moments of rest, breaths of fresh air, dry spots during the tempest & thunderstorm. Like George, the nice carpet cleaner guy. And the girl's family who was moving into my old place. And Benita's dad(!) And how it didn't rain during the day, only at night. And wings at the Brass. And 41 Clergy for their clean, usable shower. And our subletters were patient & understanding.
Home has been a luxury since then.
I just sit on the couch in the living room with my sisters & I know that I am blessed.
Time, that fleeting phantom, elusive & writhing.
It's been seven days, since that move-out & move-in.
And I can't believe I'm leaving for Europe in less than that amount of time.
Thoughts & emails & prayers & preparatory steps have been occupying my mind & time.
I may not finish the short story in time. I'm not bringing my laptop across the ocean anymore.