Speed Trials

As you know (as I love to remind anyone and everyone at any given time) I work long hours for no money. It was my decision, and I’m certainly not regretting anything (the way I see it, it wasn’t a choice for me at all, as my happiness is worth more to me than a hefty paycheck).

But I am starting to see a slight change in my lifestyle. I mean, I bought a house and all. I can’t keep buying sunglasses that I lose two days later, or banana bread just because I’m in the coffee shop buying a cuppa, or buying that overpriced coffee in the first place. So my challenge, should I choose to accept it (and really I should since it’s self-imposed) is to spend NO money until Friday, May 4th.

The rules are as such: I can still pay bills (of course) and I can still pay down my debt, but I am to step away from my consumer habits for ten days. That means no interac, no credit card, no cash purchases. I was standing in my bedroom today, looking at my messy sewing table, desperately wanting to source out some shelves to tuck it all away and make it look Martha-Stewart cute, but then I said, “No, you’re broke, this isn’t a priority, don’t spend the dough.” This weekend I was going to spend it held up in my house, watching hours and hours of Sex and the City from the rental shop, but then I said, “No, you have a drawer full of movies that you’ve already spent money on, if you want to veg for two days, do it with what you’ve got!”

And so here goes… Spending NO money for ten days. It seems to me like it should be easy to do…

Now I know what you’re all thinking: what about groceries? You’re right, that would be a thing, but I’m also starting the cleanse again tomorrow, so there won’t be any grocery shopping. At most i will have to spend $5 on lemons over the course of the week. Maybe even buy some Mint herbal tea just so I don’t go mad. But you see what I mean, the minute you start, you can justify slipping any number of things in as “essential”. Brutal.

If you rode down Bayswater today at around 1:30pm you would have seen a kitchen hutch with two black Adidas Gazelles poking out from under it teetering down the street. I decided, in a frustrated moment in the middle of my cluttered hutchless kitchen that I would carry that stupid thing from my parents’ garage no matter how long it took. So there I was huffing and puffing, five blocks away from my house, counting the sidewalk blocks and trying to get to twenty before taking my next break. It must have been quite a sight.

Apparently it was enough to draw the attention of two super nice people who pulled over, hauled the armoire into their truck while I scrambled onto the banquette of the cab. They were impressed by my hubris, though we did all give a moment of silence to the two minute car ride that represented what would have been a twenty minute ordeal of a walk.

So to my parents who couldn’t get it together for even this smallest of favours, shame on you; and to my two saviours who took a small detour in their day to completely make mine, Thank you so much!

And why all the commotion for such a silly piece of furniture, you may ask? Why, for its perfect fit of course!!

Last week the NAC put on its tour de force for the season. The play not to miss. Its opus. Forêts is a four-hour masterpiece by the newly appointed Artistic Director of French Theatre, Wajdi Mouawad, and what a play it is. I mean, so says those who saw it. I didn’t. Though I worked the coatcheck for it. Four hours. That’s a long time. Especially for a Friday before a Saturday morning move. Especially when by said Friday I had nary a thing packed for said Saturday morning’s move. I got home to my little apartment on Friday night, tired, unmotivated, and cranky. I just wanted to crawl into bed. I tried to pack a box, and it took me 40 minutes. “This is not a good use of my time”, said I. I ended up falling asleep with the light on.

Saturday morning, however, had me revitalized and so excited. I was up at 6am, packed by 9am, and the boys showed up shortly after and we began the big haul. It went really well. Graham, BG, Juice, and my beautiful man, you guys are tops! Ang’s stuff took no time at all, either, and of course, of course our first meal in the house was an array of DiRienzo’s sandwhiches and pasta and pastries. Yum yum. For anyone who doesn’t know of DiRienzo’s, it is my new pantry. Right on the corner of our street, delicious, absolutely dirt cheap food that cannot be beat. Anyone who dares say that La Bottega or some shit have the best sandwhiches in town, how wrong they are!

The decisive moment for me, when I really realized what was happening, was on the drive to the house after emptying my apartment. I had all of my belongings crammed into a truck, hatchback and trailer, and had left my apartment keys in the mailbox for the next tenant. Just like that, I had left Sandy Hill and moved back to the Short West. My detachment from the east was almost tangible. Like I had been an impostor anyway, never really dedicated to living on *that* side of the canal. Driving down towards Preston and Gladstone, I knew in my heart I was coming home.

It’s been almost a week now, and I must say throughout all the tribulations of first time home-owning, I still feel this wave of familiarity. These are my childhood stomping grounds. My girl guide leader lives (lived?) one street over from us. I rode my bike along that path by the train tracks everyday to get to school. I walked the dogs on those train tracks, teetering on the rails and seeing how many seams I could cross before falling off.

It’s sort of the best of both worlds: I still have my childhood nostalgia, but in my own home, with my present lifestyle. The old and the new intermingled.

PS. Anyone who reads this site (thank you for that, by the way) Check your mailboxes, a housewarming invite is on the way!!! (Let’s just wait for this stupid supposed snowfall to come and go first)