November 2014

18 Nov Just when you think Monday sucks…

I never sleep Sunday night. You see on the Monday morning I commute to London to teach a class; it's two hours away. I used to drive and now I take the train. But this morning, I took a bus. "It's half the price and right now every dime I have is going to my Norway trip." This is what I say in my head. I wake quite groggy at 6:30, out the door by 7. I'm the only person on Queen Street and it's still dark. Across from the Much Music studios, I smell bread--specifically, I smell freshly baked croissants. I walk by. Am I stupid? Obviously if I don't turn around and get a croissant. It's still warm as I put it in my purse. Arriving at the bus station, I decide to do some work. Laptop, cord...cord? I forgot to pack the cord to my computer. Settle down, Chambers. This just means you can't reread your lecture notes. Fine. I'll read a book. I will get a cord somehow in London. Relax, Chambers, worse has happened. Beside me a bearded man with a black turban shakes his coffee cup. "Want me to put that in the garbage for you?" I'm sitting near the window. "Thanks," he says. "Sure."

09 Nov Toronto Salsa Practice

Outside the church, a sign: Toronto Salsa Practice. Wow, hip grinding in a  house of worship. The guy outside informs me I'm early. Mid 50s, he looks like he hasn't slept in days and his comb over is flapping in the wind. "You joining?" "Ahh, yes, yes I am," I stammer. "I'll come back closer to 3:30." I go to a bar for a little liquid courage: $5 caesar down the street from St. Paul's on Bloor and Spadina. It's a rainy cold Saturday and I figure few will turn out: maybe just me and Combover. I return and pay my $5. There's no lesson, the woman tells me. It's just dancing for two hours. "Lots of levels," she continues. The place starts to fill up, and it turns out Combover works for the church--so I will not be dancing with him. Not now, or ever. Shame.