OK, here's the deal.
I'm moving to Brampton.
Not with Shoemom.
And I have to type this fast because a) there's a kitten trying to annex my keyboard and b) all of this is happening as of January 15th. Good thing I don't celebrate Christmas, as it turns out this year. Really good thing.
Right, backstory. About a month ago, the three of us had this epic family blowout in which Shoemom and I basically threw this post at Shoesis. Culminating in me screaming that there was no way she was gonna be moving near us and she screamed back that there was no way I was gonna stop her and Shoemom screaming... um... yeah, I agree, getting into TMI territory real fast here.
Upshot of it all was, Shoemom decided she wasn't, for the moment at least, going to move period. She was going to stay here in the current apt, while she figured out what she really wanted to do. Meanwhile, I would find my own place, which she would think of as a getaway and visit on alternate weekends... and in future, since neither she nor Shoesis actually want to stay permanently in the city, or with each other come to that, who knows?
It was kinda nice, actually, how it all fell out re: realising exactly what we all wanted. Shoemom and I aren't in the same position vis-a-vis each other as we were six years ago; we don't need each other, but we do still want to hang out together, and will always be there to help each other out. Meanwhile, Shoesis and she are tied still as a practical matter, re: work and so on. Except that Shoemom's on my lease, too.
We thought about keeping the Oakville dream alive for awhile, but minus older woman with car and desire to visit Ye Olde Upscale Wine Shoppes on a regular basis it became a bit impractical. Really, I thought to myself on the way down to look around, I've about had it with this commuting thing altogether. While staring wistfully out the car window at these really nice buildings a mile or so from my office, which I've always rather liked...
Right, you can guess the rest. The thing that had always been holding me back re: Brampton is that when it's ugly, it's really ugly. Old industrial parks and scruffy neighborhoods and tacky strip malls. On the other hand, as it turns out, when it's nice, it's really, really nice. Parks and a lovely little downtown and all sorts of up-to-the-minute amenities and did I mention only a mile or so out from work?
Twenty-five minutes walk. That's as long as it currently takes me to reach my carpool pickup in the mornings. And this way, instead of arriving at 7:15 to face an hour's drive into work, I'll be arriving at work, pretty much anytime I want. We have flex hours, and my boss is cool with them. I can sleep in to 8:30 every morning if I so desire; and if I want to stay a few extra hours to get things done, no biggie. Life is good.
The apartment's pretty amazing too. One of those 'lifestyle complexes' that were all the rage in mid-80's Southern Ontario -- a couple big buildings set in lavishly landscaped grounds, complete with pool, 'fitness room' and swings for the kiddies. There's even a coffee machine in the lobby, fertheloveofPete. All of this corporate chic put me off a bit at first -- in my heart, I'm still the 21-year-old iconoclast who dreamed of starving in some Victorian garret -- but hey, in reality I'm thirty-eight and according to my sister's WiiFit I could really use that fitness room.
Besides, once I saw the apartment itself all was forgiven. One-bedroom on the fourteenth floor, spectacular view, no balcony (hence no fretting over cats falling off same) but a gorgeous little sunroom set off from the bedroom with sliding glass doors. You walk into this place, and all you see is windows. Then you see the big kitchen. It has a double sink. Shoemom is thrilled. Outside the well-maintained grounds, there's the Central Library across the street and the huge shopping centre, with transit hub, just down from there. Toronto is only a $3 bus ride away.
So, there we are. Or will be. Soon.
I guess eventually even iconoclasts have to grow up.
Not with Shoemom.
And I have to type this fast because a) there's a kitten trying to annex my keyboard and b) all of this is happening as of January 15th. Good thing I don't celebrate Christmas, as it turns out this year. Really good thing.
Right, backstory. About a month ago, the three of us had this epic family blowout in which Shoemom and I basically threw this post at Shoesis. Culminating in me screaming that there was no way she was gonna be moving near us and she screamed back that there was no way I was gonna stop her and Shoemom screaming... um... yeah, I agree, getting into TMI territory real fast here.
Upshot of it all was, Shoemom decided she wasn't, for the moment at least, going to move period. She was going to stay here in the current apt, while she figured out what she really wanted to do. Meanwhile, I would find my own place, which she would think of as a getaway and visit on alternate weekends... and in future, since neither she nor Shoesis actually want to stay permanently in the city, or with each other come to that, who knows?
It was kinda nice, actually, how it all fell out re: realising exactly what we all wanted. Shoemom and I aren't in the same position vis-a-vis each other as we were six years ago; we don't need each other, but we do still want to hang out together, and will always be there to help each other out. Meanwhile, Shoesis and she are tied still as a practical matter, re: work and so on. Except that Shoemom's on my lease, too.
We thought about keeping the Oakville dream alive for awhile, but minus older woman with car and desire to visit Ye Olde Upscale Wine Shoppes on a regular basis it became a bit impractical. Really, I thought to myself on the way down to look around, I've about had it with this commuting thing altogether. While staring wistfully out the car window at these really nice buildings a mile or so from my office, which I've always rather liked...
Right, you can guess the rest. The thing that had always been holding me back re: Brampton is that when it's ugly, it's really ugly. Old industrial parks and scruffy neighborhoods and tacky strip malls. On the other hand, as it turns out, when it's nice, it's really, really nice. Parks and a lovely little downtown and all sorts of up-to-the-minute amenities and did I mention only a mile or so out from work?
Twenty-five minutes walk. That's as long as it currently takes me to reach my carpool pickup in the mornings. And this way, instead of arriving at 7:15 to face an hour's drive into work, I'll be arriving at work, pretty much anytime I want. We have flex hours, and my boss is cool with them. I can sleep in to 8:30 every morning if I so desire; and if I want to stay a few extra hours to get things done, no biggie. Life is good.
The apartment's pretty amazing too. One of those 'lifestyle complexes' that were all the rage in mid-80's Southern Ontario -- a couple big buildings set in lavishly landscaped grounds, complete with pool, 'fitness room' and swings for the kiddies. There's even a coffee machine in the lobby, fertheloveofPete. All of this corporate chic put me off a bit at first -- in my heart, I'm still the 21-year-old iconoclast who dreamed of starving in some Victorian garret -- but hey, in reality I'm thirty-eight and according to my sister's WiiFit I could really use that fitness room.
Besides, once I saw the apartment itself all was forgiven. One-bedroom on the fourteenth floor, spectacular view, no balcony (hence no fretting over cats falling off same) but a gorgeous little sunroom set off from the bedroom with sliding glass doors. You walk into this place, and all you see is windows. Then you see the big kitchen. It has a double sink. Shoemom is thrilled. Outside the well-maintained grounds, there's the Central Library across the street and the huge shopping centre, with transit hub, just down from there. Toronto is only a $3 bus ride away.
So, there we are. Or will be. Soon.
I guess eventually even iconoclasts have to grow up.