Because I couldn't reach my notebook yesterday morning when I was squished onto an OC Transpo bus, I used the next best thing to write myself a reminder.
The back of my hand.
Grasping my inky black pen, I scrawled the words OCFF, taxes, snare and Borthwick onto my skin. They were shaky, but I could make them out enough to remember to take care of each item once I reached the office. I read over my work, satisfied, and put my pen away.
That's when I noticed the man across the aisle looking at me. Well, at my hand, actually. He was squinting to read what I had written. He spent the whole ride twisting his neck this way and that to get a good view of my list. I think the only thing he would have been able to read was OCFF, and even then, I doubt he knew what I was talking about. It was sort of funny, but I felt oddly self-conscious. People don't usually dedicate twenty minutes of their day to stare at my hands. Eventually I put my mitts on.
My friends are all moved into their new house. It feels like the end of an era. They've been living down the street from me for the past few years, and I've gotten used to wandering over whenever the mood struck. Now my Better Half and I are a little more isolated. Our friends are moving out to the 'burbs, and we're moving deeper into the core of the city. Way to buck the trend.
Because of my unusually busy weekend, plus all the painting and moving, my Life Organic box has been neglected. Tonight, my only mission is to chop and roast all my veggies before they go rubbery. As if I needed a reason to love that company any more than I already do, my last few boxes from them have been personalized with little notes. I guess they heard my songs on the radio, and now know the whole CD by heart. Fan mail! From the company that gives me my groceries! In return, I sent them fan mail about their excellent food. It all evens out.
Bwahahahaha! I am wiping away the tears....