The Library

Friday after work I went to the Library. 

Now I know what you are thinking - 4 years in university and the girl barely steps foot in the library and now that's what she does on friday after work?! 

It's not that I never went to the library in those days - I did go once, but I found the people weren't very social.  I didn't like it.  So many people and I couldn't talk to any of them.  I felt like a cat beside an aquarium.  Anyhow, I tried to go back from time to time, I truly tried, but in my defense, if they really wanted us to go to the library they wouldn't have put it so close to the Den...

So, it's friday afternoon and the people said, "let's go to the Library!"

All I could think was, great.  Vancouver - where no one eats whales, no one is pro-oil-spills, no one is seen without a starbucks in one hand and a yoga mat in the other and now this...friday after work and they want to drag me to a Library...  I was contemplating if I could be turned into a tofu-eating yogi but I draw the line at this.  Friday after work is reserved for one thing and one thing only. 

But when you are somewhere new and have limited friends, well - beggars can't be choosers.  I went to the Library.


Imagine my delight when The Library turned out to be a pub!

It's crazy brillant isn't it?!  Why did the UofC not think of this years ago??  If they called the Den, the Library, I would have gone three times a week!!  Just imagine how smart I'd be now....sigh...

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Dear Diary

It has been 7 days now in which I have been trapped on this soggy island...work on the ark is progressing slowly.  Curling irons and nice shoes have been abandoned.  Food supplies are running low.  The only way to replenish them would be to venture 4 blocks, but travel is ill advised for umbrellas and rubber boots have proven futile weapons against such force.  Word hasn't travelled far being the outside world is suffering from power outages, but I remain hopeful that a rescue party will find us here soon.  The current shelter is holding up, but I expect it won't be long before rainwater begins to seep through....  Spirits on the island are begining to wan.  Its been 7 days in this gray world and there is no sign of reprieve.  Oh how I long for summer.  To see light and cloudless skies.  To feel warm and dry.  I pray that the bailing buckets remain intact, I pray that this island does not get washed to sea, I pray that the ark reaches completion in time.  In this bleak world only one thing seems certain - those summers of my youth spent collecting swimming badges will surely not go to waste.

I must sign off now, it is time to gather wood from which to fashion spears to fend off sharks and pirates should this land be swept away and a life at sea begin.  The rainwaters are pooling, it seems there is little time left for preparation.  I shall sleep this night in a life jacket; a preserver as my pillow.

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Dear Mr. Realtor...merry christmas to you too....

So here’s the thing. There are certain expectations one has in life.  One of them is when you buy a home, you will get a little house-warming gift from your realtor. 

I never did. 

My realtor was away when I picked up the keys to my place - he said he’d come by and drop something off later, but never did.  I was disappointed sure, I mean a precedent has been set in this area, it’s become an expectation when you trade in your life savings for four walls.  But I chalked it up to, ‘well he forgot’.  And I’ve tried to just not think about it, which works fine except that people keep asking for my realtor...cause aside from the lack of chocolate I was really happy with him.  But I feel like I can’t give out his name...I want my friends to have that ‘awww’ moment when they open their thank you card.  But then, I was really happy with him so I want to recommend him.  Ugh, such a dilemma…

Then, the other day, in the mail – almost a year to the date of when I purchased my home – came an envelope.    

“Oh my gosh, he remembered!!”  All my problems were solved!  I ripped it open expecting to find a note, ‘hope you are enjoying your new home!” and a gift card or a very tiny, very flat bottle of wine.  Instead I found a Christmas card with his signature and his business card tucked inside.  It was almost insulting…he sent me business cards?!?!...this he remembers to do!?!

But silly as it seems, I still hold out hope, maybe he’ll remember in the spring when he’s staring out the window, looking at the world turn green then suddenly he’ll think, oh geez, I never did get that basket of cheese to Tanya….I better go do that now.  It’ll be all moldy, but I’d still take it!!

Yes.  When it comes to these things, I’m ever the optimist!