Writer's blocked

I still haven't figured out how or what to write. It's just so quiet at work today that I thought I ought to make good use of the time in one way or another.

It's snowy in Toronto today. I'm sat, bored, in the store because it's overcast and deserted outside. I didn't get my first customer until I'd been open for 25 minutes, which is a stark contrast to the carnage of xmas week. For the majority of the time today it's been just me and my grumbling stomach, and there's still another turgid hour to go. I guess everyone in The Beaches is still feeling a little fat 'n' fuzzy after the festive season.

I still have that post-new year fuzziness too. There was so much Indian food left over that I've been eating it for breakfast, lunch and dinner since the 31st. Not without consequences either - which is why I make a Chicken Madras a rare rather than regular treat. I think I've just about managed to reset my digestive tract and my body clock to normality though, after being in a stay-up-to-2am phase.

Evidently I survived xmas and new year, peak anxiety-inducing periods of the year for me. Xmas ended up being a walk in the park because I'd been working so hard on the run-up to xmas that I was grateful to get a couple of days off to myself and just sleep in. New year started off bad. I worked 'til 6pm but as soon as I was out of the door and into the darkness it started to needle me: new year's eve 2008 was supposed to be my first date with Sarah, and ended up being the first of many no-shows throughout '08 and '09. It still gets me even now - even now I'd date her. Even now I'd leap in the air if she showed up, and even now I'm still thinking of her every day. The only difference is that it hurts less. That said, every now and then I'll get a sudden pang in my gut that'll stop me in my tracks or at least in my train of thought. I guess time heals all wounds eventually though. Fortunately for me on new year's eve '09 I'd made plans to host a few friends so once they showed up I was pleasantly distracted until I - apparently - fell asleep mid-sentence on the sofa. As far as my (non-) love life for 2009 is concerned, Sarah was it aside from a couple of one-nighters.

Home-wise the apartment is coming together slowly but surely. I've gone all art deco in the bathroom and 1970s everywhere else, and both themes are working well, other than someone buying the used 1970s sideboard I had my eye on. I'm still not exactly proud of the place yet but it'll come. The creative process is cool though - deciding colours, sketching and stuff. All good fun.

I'd better go...I have a customer with that, "I've got myself into trouble and I don't know how to get myself out..." look. More when I've figured out the deets...

2010: a spaced oddity

I woke up with two gay men in my bed this morning. I don't often get the opportunity to say that so I thought I'd better zip it into a blog entry. Currently, one of them is snoring so loudly that he's drowning out the tunes that are playing! *chuckles*

The other has his face firmly planted in the pillow, and his butt poking up in the air. I don't know what you call them but he's wearing those underpants that are kinda jockstrap-esque. That's right, he has ass-less chap-undies on. *trying not to laugh and wake 'em up* If I could be 100% sure he wouldn't wake up while I was doing it, I'd go find a marker pen and write something rude on his bum cheeks. I could just write a "W" on each cheek so it spells "WOW!"

I probably wouldn't reeeeeally do that though. I'm actually kinda chuffed with both of them at the moment, even though I've been up since 9am, showered, dressed, made a giant pot of coffee, and they're still both utterly comatose and it's nearly noon. *smiles* They got engaged a few days ago so I'm delighted for both of them. And considering the quantity of booze and weed we motored through last night, the wedding should be a blast.

We chowed down several kilos of Indian food last night too. All morning I've been entertaining myself by farting so loudly that the windows reverberate, and then laughing when neither of the chaps wake up. The fact that I can amuse myself in such a primal way is indicative of a steady improvement in my ability to appreciate the little things in life. It's a 'tell' that I'm getting better.

Anyway, a lot's happened since we last spoke. So much so that for the last few days I've been puzzling about how best to blog next. A 2009 review? Snapshot in time? List of learnings from last year's experiences?

When I've figured that out, there'll be more words.

What day is it again?

It's Monday...probably.

I had my first shower in three days this morning. I've been so busy with additional work hours that while my second move went like a military operation, I still haven't had time to unpack and move in properly, let alone get to the store to buy a shower curtain...until yesterday that is. "Moving in properly," also includes things like finishing unpacking to the extent that I can walk from one side of the room to the other without having to walk on the bed. It would include NOT running out of medication, which happened the day before yesterday so I'm typing, from work, in withdrawal or "discontinuation syndrome" as my shrink calls it. It would include being able to find something, or anything in my home. It would include having fresh groceries in the fridge. It would include ordering internet access in advance and after thorough research rather than just ordering Rogers for two days from now.

If I sound a little peeved it's because I've been struggling to scrunch everything in around work. Since starting, my hours have been increased and whilst I seem to be doing quite well, when the thought of asking for a day off crosses my mind I suddenly feel like Oliver Twist, asking for more. I even organised both moves to happen on my day off. Yesterday I had to beg for half an hour during the time the store was open so I could get to the hardware shop across the road. I struggled back with a mailbox, grounding cable for the mixer, sponge and squeegee for the windows, bathmat, shower curtain, doormat, light bulbs, dusters, door wedges, surge protectors, plus more I can't even remember. This will all pass I'm sure, once I can get everything organised. I just have to hang on for today and tomorrow and then I get two days off on the trot so hopefully I can get caught up. It's really pissing me off though. My place is a mess, and not being able to lay my hands on things whenever I need them is driving me nuts.

I'm too tired to relish the place at the moment, although it is still nice to come home and not have to worry about working around someone else and their own schedule.

More updates will follow when I finally get web access at home.

"Even in the future, the sweet is never as sweet without the sour. And I know sour."

This'll be my last blog from this address. Everything's packed except some clothes in my room. All I'll need to do in the morning is remember my bike, and dismantle my bed so it'll fit through the doorway.

It's also the cut-off point for her and the year-long farce. My old e-mail address is gone, the screen is cracked on my old phone so I can't read text messages anyway and the Fido/Rogers account just about done. After tomorrow she won't have any of my current contact details and I will no longer have to wonder why she hasn't been in touch.

It's a shame really...a waste. But when it gets me down I just keep telling myself (a) that she probably never did intend to meet me, and (b) even if she did, there's nothing I can do about it anyway. The only info I have for her is an e-mail address so she could be anywhere on the planet. I just wonder which one. I must admit though, the last few days have been extraordinarily painful and I couldn't stop myself hoping that the deadline might stimulate some action on her part. Indeed, I wondered if she'd suddenly appear at the front door while I was up to my eyes in cardboard boxes and parcel tape.

But no, of course she didn't. I suspect her ex-husband would've padlocked her in the basement if she'd even tried.

As Penelope Cruz' character, Sofia, says in Vanilla Sky: maybe Sarah and I, "...will meet in another life, when we are both cats."

Stardate 19.11.09 Supplemental

Waaaaaaaaaay too busy to blog properly right now.

Basement, kitchen, dining room, lounge, plus all DJ equipment is all packed and ready to move. Movers are confirmed. Just the bedroom to do tonight and by this time tomorrow...CHEZ MOI!

Oh, and I just got my second thank-you pressie from a customer in as many months for being so helpful. Are you still reading, Blane? Huh? Are ya?