We emptied our old apartment yesterday. Mostly. Everything we’re taking, anyway. Pretty much.
A week-long move is enough to take me across that line from sentimental to annoyed, even angry. What happened to our mail? Why isn’t our old landlord picking up the phone? Who peed in the toilet while we were gone and didn’t flush? Could we have lived further away from the core? That last one is possible, of course, but I don’t want to think about what happens to you when you cross the 905-threshold or settle down in the endless sprawl of North York. You get honked at in mall parking lots a lot more, that’s one thing I do know.
Mostly I’m tired. Last night I fell asleep on our bed with my clothes on. I wasn’t planning on it. I woke up at five and thought I could make up for it by doing some work on the computer, which would be possible as long as I armed myself with a handful of corn pops. Because corn pops are well-known for their rejuvenating properties. Ten minutes of eye-straining, blurry head-wavering and I was back in bed. At least I was comfortable, this time. My dreams were haunting and miserable. Tonight I have to drive the car back to Caledon and I think that has something to do with it.