…I’m part of you now. It’s officially offical.
Today, I woke up feeling like I’d been run over by a team of horses. Not a herd; a team. Because only a team could work together, rallying up the effort and efficiency to run me over with such an unrelentingly brutal force. My nose won’t stop running. I can’t stop sneezing, and my body temperature is fluctuating faster than I can take off my sweater or put on my COAT.
I walked home from dropping off a vehicle early this morning wearing four layers of clothing, topped with a fleece. Others around me were wearing tanks and shorts. They looked a bit chilly, but I still looked rather ridiculous. The point is that I walked home. It took me almost 45 minutes. I wanted to ensure that by the time I got home I’d be so exhausted, there’d be no way I’d be able to stay up to endure the terrible cold that had struck me overnight. In my cold-ey haze, I walked, and walked, and I really saw my neighbourhood. I saw it in a way that you can’t quite grasp when you’re whipping by on a bike. I saw the little stores I wanted to explore. I saw the little bars I wanted to ignore. I saw the bakeries and took note of their opening times. I noted which cafes looked like they’d have free wi-fi. I noted which coin laundries had tempting food options near by. I walked along the bike path and noticed the meticulous planting methods of those who had filled the formerly drab, chain-link fence with creeping vines of Virginia Creeper. I arrived home and promptly passed out in bed for nearly four hours. Had I had the energy to resist the sleep at all, I would have noticed the sound of more than one rush-hour GO-Train going by less than 100 meters away.
I awoke to the sound of my own sneeze. I sneezed IN my sleep. This is a terrible feeling that I wouldn’t wish upon anyone. I endured the fit of sounds that would be emitted from my nose and throat over the following fifteen minutes. Once it passed, I worked up the energy to make myself some eggs and toast. I thought about adding kielbasa and tomatoes, or making a sandwich, but I decided that simple was what my system needed. I realized I hadn’t made myself breakfast in nearly two weeks. It was then that I decided to make the time in the mornings to give myself some sustenance before embarking upon physically taxing days of labour.
I puttered. I put away clothes. I moved my mattress to the other side of the room. I rested on said mattress for nearly fifteen minutes because the act of moving it nearly knocked my entire bank of energy out of me. Finally, I mustered up enough energy to pack all my dirty clothes into a suitcase and make my way to the laundromat. I passed the closest one. It was so close it didn’t feel worth the effort of having to pack for a laundering adventure. I found the one I was looking for, and realized it was right next door to an amazing little coffee shop. Today marks the very first day of their liquor licensing, and had I felt up to it, I’d have raised a glass to them. They have local art on the walls. They serve real coffee. They offer more than just danishes, donuts, and muffins to snack on. They’re amazing.
Clean clothes, fully belly, I walked home. I passed another team of animals, waiting outside a sports bar. The least pleasant of my neighbourhood experiences, I was asked by more than one of them to come away with them on vacation with my big suitcase. I literally felt leered at. But I walked past and stopped at a little 24hr convencience store to pick up a little milk for my morning tea. He had something that smelt WAY too good not to look at underneath a papertowel. “Colombian empanadas.” Yes please. And yes, I will tell my friends. Tender beef and perfectly mushed potatoes, with a lightly battered and perfectly fried crust. I will have to prevent myself from eating these every day. They’re that good.
I’m home now. I feel really at home.