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I Should�ve Taken That Left Turn at Albuquerque |
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Hello and welcome. If you're new here, be a dear and Read my Disclaimer. My diary not good enough for you? Fine, be that way. Try these instead: plf
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2002-11-17 - 9:27 p.m.� I think it's officially winter in Southern Ontario. Le sigh. I hope it stops snowing by tomorrow, at least. My job is even less fun in the winter. I have an increase in clients, volunteer drivers refusing to drive if it even looks like it might storm, and the always fun dilemma of whether or not I should cancel meal delivery due to weather. And the elderly seem to be crankier in the winter. Or maybe not. They are kind of cranky no matter what the weather. I spent a good chunk of this weekend cleaning. Last week I opened my mailbox to find a notice from the superintendents that they are going to be doing their yearly inspection on Thursday. When I first saw the notice, the first thing I read was "Please be advised that you have 7 days notice" and my heart did that thing where it falls into my stomach and I can't breathe for a second. And I knew that we've done nothing wrong. I know the rent is paid promptly every month, usually because I am the one who actually writes the cheque. I know we are quiet, well-behaved tenants, the kind that most superintendents are thrilled to have in their buildings. But my gut reaction was "Oh shit, not again." It's been more than three years since my father got himself and I kicked out of our home, but I suppose that's something I'll never quite get over. I keep replaying that awful week over in my head. Sobbing and begging the man who served our eviction papers to please wait, because I was home alone, and I only had 3 weeks left of school, and nowhere to go. My father's lack of surprise when I told him the news that he and I would soon be homeless. Walking to the corner store to buy garbage bags to pack my clothes. Packing up my books and videos in boxes from the grocery store that smelled like tater-tots and laundry detergent. The final time I spoke with my father, when I told him that we were done, that I was done with him. He was indifferent. I don't think he believed that I meant it. I meant it. And I still mean it. I don't think of him often, but when I do the anger and the hurt are still fresh. I wonder if that can ever change.
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The big 3 0 - 2006-06-03 Hello again - 2006-05-03 Random stuff in place of an actual update - 2006-03-15 Pictures. Just Because. - 2006-02-23 Christmas 05 - 2005-12-26 Currently listening to: Sonny Boy Williamson, "Sonny Boy's Christmas Blues" |
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