The weekend has been fun. Although I don’t have a 9-to-5 grind to escape from, there’s still a grind that I like to forget. I’ve been pretty lazy; gone to the park with Neptune a bunch of times, walked to the market, planted flowers, got frustrated with Garage Band, you know. Lazy stuff. When the weather gets nice (which feels like its never going to actually happen) everybody comes out and brings it into the streets. Its fun because there are a lot of kids that play in the laneway behind the house. Neptune has thrown rocks down into the sewer with the two little girls next door on a few occasions. I had a full-out Park-Ex day on Saturday. The weather was perfect and the Exxers were out in full force.
I was in the laneway with Neptune. She was going nuts, just laughing and running around with other kids. She actually ran up to a little girl she’d never met and they gave each other a big hug! It was really cute. But anyway, we were there and suddenly an older woman came up to me and held her hand out to me. I was like: “What?” She was saying something to me in another language, nodding, holding out her hand and just like: “Yes. Give it to me. I know you have it. Money.” I was very surprised because she didn’t look poor or homeless or desperate at all. I gave her all the change I had and she was still asking for more. I think she wanted some bills. Anyway I said that was it, and she just walked away.
Our backyard is far from luxurious. It is fully paved with cement, is adorned with crusty chairs, old bricks, lumber scraps and some Greek shipping barrels that have been converted into planters. One of the girls from next door asked me first if we had a backyard, then if we had a sandbox in our backyard, and then if we bought that sand. I told her Neptune’s grandfather got it for her, but it was a serious interrogation. Where was she going with that?
We also have degenerates living across the street. I saw them chasing a new little puppy, down the street. It wasn’t wearing a collar, and so the guy grabbed the dog aggressively by the tail or whatever he could get his hands on, causing the dog to yelp painfully. I was just like: “Irresponsible dog owner. One loser of thousands.” But then later on that same day I was going to the store and saw the same dog in the streets, through the intersection, people stopping and staring at this cute floppy puppy running free, following random people, trying to get on the bus. And no owner in sight. He was probably sitting on his balcony, yelling with his girlfriend, screaming into the phone about money and things like “Don’t worry about it I’ll get it for you.”
Sometimes I feel like I go outside and everyone looks at me and thinks: “Oh, she watches Scrubs.” Anyway, who cares. I get my sunglasses at the DollarTheque and my shorts at Garage just like everyone else. It’s fricking Canada. That’s just how it is.