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- Written by: Rod Boyle
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...
Monday night, OK, Tuesday, a peaceful day only broken up by the owners coming in to the restaurant to have me try a half dozen new cocktails for our new menu.
Which, as they're mixing them at full strength highly discombobulates me, not a feeling I like at work.
In the evening the boy's arrived with a 14' truck filled with the last of my locker. So I need now to get another locker and we can unload it.
Wednesday, outside cold, 1 degree, and after coffee in the morning we head down to get a locker at the junction - $170 per month. 8X10. And we look in the back of the truck and begin unloading. I still have a lot of stuff, and bad news, somewhen in the past couple of years the locker sprung a rooftop leak and clearly many of my boxes of books have suffered catastrophic losses.
I find things that I might need and organize them beside the truck things I might be able to sell, drop off at the antique shop, and so we organize the new locker by what I might need (by front door) and what I can deal with later (in the back). The goal is to one day not have a locker.
2 more boxes of candlesticks, 24, these to the antique dealer. art supplies out my yin-yang, cufflinks - 100's of sets, and the small box with a dozen of my favourites, luck would have it, was directly below the leak, all the gold-filled has turned green and with a few of them, later in the day, no amount of Brasso will repair.
Cloths, 100lbs, these we pile beside the van as well. And then it begins. The rain, snow, wind, it's the wintriest day of all winter on this, my moving day.
Everything is soaked, through and through, myself included. And those books not soaked in the original flood are quickly getting so in the gap between truck and locker.
3 hours later and it's done. Absolute shit-show of a miserable fucking day but at least it's done. Now a huge pile of stuff to be moved through my apartment on the way to the antique shop....
On a hunch we swing by the shop - he's usually open Thu-Sat, but for some reason he's there today.
This is the sole silver lining...
God damn! and so we unload the antiques...
Then home, and 4 or 5 loads of shit up to my apartment where I begin doing laundry - 4 loads; to clean all the locker clothes that were soaked in the deluge. Dinner and then the boy is off; there's a blizzard forecast for Calgary and he wants to get home before the snow, and I'm left polishing cufflinks, sorting through the boxes of shit I brought into the house, some treasures, for sure, but these treasures will later today find their way to the antique shop, for this lifetime at least I've had my fill. 4 loads of laundry later the closet's overwhelmed, and I'll need once again to do some sorting, take some shit to the thrift shop, but that can be done later. There's an inspection in May and I'd better be ready...
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A headline in todays paper:
Because that's how you measure cocaine: In the number of Bears it would kill. As in the movie "Cocaine Bear". Gotta engage the treehuggers somehow...
I'm not even certain they were trying to be funny...
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Yesterdays hilarious denials by a mock-upset Melania protesting she was not friends with Epstein. There are literally countless photos that argue otherwise.
Something is up...
One particularly droll reddit observation was that Trump needs a distraction from the Iran War...and has decided the Epstein files are the lesser of two evils.
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So today, the old schedule, a cherished day off.
I have many of these, I'm bailing on the system, I have other priorities.
This morning, I awake too early, dreams, bad dreams. Always that I'm at the restaurant, yes-sir-no-sir-three-bags-full sir, trying to do things, forgetting things, interacting with customers. Only I'm not so asleep that I can't recognize that I'm dreaming and can't I dream of something better, more profitable, anything but this...
I don't have much luck. Semi-lucidity then back into the same shit. Less dreams, not quite nightmares, but the world is a bigger place...
And then there is the one where I'm looking through my wallet, I've raided my float for groceries, and I'm turning over $5 bills and discovering that in the dim light of the restaurant I misread them, they're $50 bills, and I have a few, I'm richer than I think...
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This morning, after I get up, restive and not sleeping due to shit restaurant dreams, off for coffee. Then groceries, a few I need, then home, drop them off, peanuts for the crows I'm not feeding, they've been beseeching me, following me down Baker, a few other things. Home, drop them off, a brief stab at a nap, catch up on the world via the news and Facebook, all of it BS, but I'm trying. Then to the library, blog, write a bit, study Lidar a bit, I've got some prospecting plans, questions, stop and grab a double deluxe and poutine, home for a nap, and then off again to Balfour to scour for arrowheads. Nada, a few flakes, I have plenty already...
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Home, I should make dinner but lunch has filled me plenty. The light has gone and I'm not terribly inspired to paint, or - the light being gone and the interior lights not so good I'm not going to bother. Tomorrow. I've been painting more, not better, just more, and sometimes that has to be enough.
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The boy, on a phone call yesterday, has promised to transplant all my remaining shit from my locker in Calgary to here. Yayyy. There's no room, but I'm excited (as always) at what I might discover. This next week and since there's no room here I'll need to find another locker, and make an appointment with the antique shop to take the rest.
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And, having abandoned trying to paint, write, I'm now watching "Waking Life". So far, so good, a tonic for my soul. I'll review when I've finished...
I wonder that I haven't seen it before. Or maybe I have...
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And every day, another Iranian meme, the lego-diss tracks on Trump, Hegseth, they're winning the internet. When it's done - the war, I mean, there could be a film festival of this; they're not wrong. And given how long this war is going to go there will be more than a few feature films worth of material available...