Hang on. In the beginning...
1) In the beginning the fridge leaked. A lot. A friend getting rid of her old fridge said we could have it. Hallelujah, we said, and praise the lord. The lord laughed; friend's fridge would not fit through our hallway nor through the back door. Sayonara, friend's fridge. In retrospect, this was so frivolous a trouble that it counts as entertainment.
2) Knowing we were planning to engage in a house-swap in August, exchanging homes with friends from Brighton, we looked at our surroundings with a more critical gaze. The staircases, all three of them, were in a dire state, and husband decided now was the hour to rectify that. We selected a lovely shade of slate grey for the 'step' part of the stairs, and a creamy white for the 'riser'. The tricks involved in getting lines where the two colours meet straight and the paint smooth eluded us, as did those in achieving cooperation from the household pets.
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| Cat + toy + wet paint = *&^%# |
And on top of it all, the stylish slate grey turned out to be more of a muddy brown. We are just not fancy folk. (I tell people that our decorating scheme is shabby chic without the chic.)
3) Then the black cat got sick. The kids call that cat Cottontail, because he has a little dot of white on the end of him, but I call him Bazooka, for his endless destructive activities. In this case, he destroyed our peace of mind and our bank balance, requiring emergency hospitalization and then a series of tests, which were all inconclusive. After the cat endured days on IV fluids and a variety of medication, the vet sent him home to us, undiagnosed, and instructed us to shove drugs down his throat, coax him to eat and drink, and prepare ourselves for the worst. One night we had a power blackout and I found myself feeding my struggling and ungrateful cat disgusting puree through a syringe by candlelight, wondering how I got here.
3a) Husband left town. Not me, just town.
4) They say that Toronto has two seasons: winter and construction. Well, it's not winter. The houses on both sides of us are undergoing noisy renovations. Workers friendly, noise intermittently loud and annoying.
5) Work: now I've got too much of it, but I learned recently that come spring, I'll have too little, as research funds dwindle. Desperately seeking more grant money. Academia is really a life of semi-dignified begging. I sometimes wonder whether I'd be better off brushing up on my juggling skills, learning the banjo, and staking out a street corner with a Starbucks on it.
6) The cat, Bazooka the trouble-maker, took to disappearing. We found him twice on the roof of the single-story extension, which is overlooked by the laundry room, whose window was open wide, rather than its usual 2-inch cat-proof gap. 'Who opened that window?' we all hollered at each other. No one 'fessed up. I postulated silently that the cat was looking for a private place to hide and expire. Then at 4:00 am on Saturday, Jordi the dog began barking in my bedroom, truly, madly, deeply. He was so insistent that instead of shushing him, I leaped up and followed him down the hallway to the laundry room. The sick black cat slunk out, looking guilty as all get-out, and I charged in, flipping on the light. The window was open wide, indeed was opening wider as I watched, the screen flung on the floor, and two tiny hands gripped the edge of one sliding pane. Pressed against the glass on the outside was the hulking shape of a raccoon's haunches, though in that light and at that time, it could also have been a bear's. Well, a cub's. I shoved the window closed, fortunately not taking off any little fingers in the process, and latched it. The dog continued to bark and my heart to pound as I crawled back to bed. That's how the cat had been getting out. Except for the dog, surely we would have had a raccoon invasion. I've had those before, in California, and I felt grateful not to have the experience again. Good dog.
7) I felt less grateful to him Saturday evening. The kids and I had trooped off to see the track and field finals of the Pan Am Games. We had a wonderful time watching relays and high jumps and javelins. We had a less wonderful time coming home, laden with Thai takeaway, discovering that the house had been burgled, apparently with the willing cooperation of the dog. He despises raccoons, but loves humans, apparently any humans. Bad dog. We lost laptops and jewelry and some cash. We lost that night's sleep. The police arrived (eventually) and stayed for hours, taking pictures and fingerprints and interviewing neighbours. After they left, a door repairman was sent by the insurance company. He arrived at 4 o'clock am (24 hours exactly after the raccoon) and stayed for an hour, talking steadily to himself. Bless.
8) The sequelae: dealings with police, insurance, security companies, replacing laptops. Decisions, decisions, decisions, and deductibles. So very un-fun. And did I mention husband left town? Oh yes, I did. But I'm not bitter. Not a bit.
9) Terse message from my father: time-sensitive information from UCLA. Prepare to receive. What, Dad? What? I imagined the worst. UCLA has a major medical center; there must be some dire diagnosis on its way. Finally the letter arrives, and it is indeed from the medical center. It's been hacked by cyber-crooks. I am among the 4.8 million people whose patient records may have been compromised. Last time I was a patient at UCLA medical center was over two decades ago. I find it hard to worry, but my father has enrolled me in an identity-protection scheme. I am not that sure I want to keep my identity at this point. Maybe it would be a good thing to let someone else have it for awhile, someone who is better at deciding on alarm installation companies, and who wants to clean up cat vomit. Come on, you hackers, I dare you.
10) The house swap. This is going to be fun. I'm really looking forward to it. I am, honest. I am not, however, looking forward to preparing for it. Clearing up, making things clear. Lists and more lists. When do the bins go out? How many drawers to empty? Where do we keep the lawn mower? Did I mention husband is not here to share the burden? Oh right, I did. I also mentioned that I'm not bitter, not one tiny little bit. I am grace itself.
Well, I've reached ten so I'll stop. To show my good attitude and gratitude, why don't I list a few blessings. 1) The cat seems to be on the mend. 2) The fridge leakage was repaired for a small (ish) sum by a repairman. 3) The Pan Am Games and associated events have brought joy and delight to the city. 4) Husband and I had a wonderful day at a spa to celebrate our anniversary, the day before he left town (but I won't dwell on that). 5) The weather is beautifully warm, proper summer, just the way I like it: #yesIsweat 6) The raspberry bush is fruiting, tomatoes are ripening, herbs running rampant. 7) The stairs are painted now, and not at all badly, if you don't examine them very closely. 8) Wonderful family and friends have been supportive and helpful about the break-in, and I got to meet and talk to lots of my neighbours because of it. 9) The burglars shut both the front door (where they entered) and the back door (where they left), which ensured the pets did not escape -- though perhaps not for that reason. They made no mess at all and carefully did not steal passports or other documents. As a friend in England wrote, 'Even Canadian burglars are polite!' 10) If I can make it through the next few days, the kids and I will be heading to England, my first visit there in over a year. It's going to be great. I'm quite sure.
There. Even steven.
Forgive me as I scan the skies for locusts. Is that hail falling?
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