I feel like I am missing something when I don’t write. It’s a nagging feeling like a low grade pain. If it was a sound, it would be a low hum like the sound from a basement dehumidifier or if you lived in a bungalow down the street from a factory, the sound of a factory from inside a bungalow down the street. It’s just kind of there in the background, a feeling that is ever present but unnoticeable until you notice it.
So I got through my 101-days countdown till March 1st and now March 1st has come and gone. As predicted, Spring has sprung. The snow on the lawns and boulevards has melted away and the snow banks at the end of driveways and in the corners of parking lots has begun its slow transmogrification from snow to ice to sand and dirt.
I took a nice walkabout yesterday, listening to music from the 70s and 80s and behind my sunglasses and under a cap. I forgot my gloves and my hands got cold. 6C isn’t as nice as it looks.
The dog turns 15 years old today. We looked up yesterday how old doodles get to live. The website said 12-15 years. So if she lives thought the night, she’s already beaten the odds.
I talked to my mom on her birthday and she told me that my youngest sister is going to retire at the end of April. Wow. Retiring at 56. I am jealous and surprised. I wonder what she’s going to do with herself. She almost never leaves Vancouver Island (flying and ferry rides make her nauseous). What will she do ? What will she do?
Jane and Dick sold their home in Lakeshore North and moved into a city centre condo. They had to downsize, declutter much of the brick-a-brac they had collected over the past thirty years of marriage. But they got through it. It was the thing that everyone seemed to be doing anyway. Once they got started it truly was “liberating”, getting free from so much old stuff.
Then they travelled in the wintertime and fit into their new lives like two fingers into a glove. And time went by like water through a hose and they were a happy couple of little Janes and Dicks in a condominium.