Carrying Cash

Last Sunday morning, Bruce headed out to go see his dad.  Then Kim and Kevan, who'd been visiting for the weekend, left for the train (early, because of the usual anxiety about missing things) leaving me at home alone to do some pottering around. I made the beds. Got started on the Christmas cards. Then I heard my phone ping. It was a text from Kim. She wanted to know if Kevan’s phone was on the hall table. 

It wasn’t. Nor in the kitchen. But, ever so faintly, I could hear a phone ringing. I couldn’t figure out where it was coming from, until it dawned on me to look outside. I opened the door. There was a neighbourhood denizen sitting on the steps opposite ours. I could clearly hear the phone now. I asked the man if he had the phone. I descended our steps and saw Kevan’s phone, on the sidewalk, where it had lain for at least the past half hour. 

I picked it up, answered it (Kim was calling) and went indoors, the intentions of the denizen not something I needed to figure out at that moment. I told Kim I’d bring Kevan’s phone to Union Station. On my way out a few seconds later, the denizen was still there. He said "I was going to turn it in, eh." I thanked him for keeping his eye on it.

No doubt he was thinking about something to do with that phone. Getting up the nerve to steal it; imagining how he could cash in, or he could have been sitting guard. One thing for sure, Kevan is a lucky man. Anyone else who drops their phone in this neighbourhood loses it seven seconds later.

I hopped on the subway and got to Union Station half an hour before their train left. I gave Kevan his phone, said goodbye again, then walked back home. On the way I stopped by a Christmas tree place I'd had my eye on for a while and bought a wreath for the front door. Because that’s what the fates had intended all along – to find a way to get me out on a Sunday on Front Street across from the St Lawrence Market to buy a Christmas wreath. It's odd that they had to involve Kevan and that random neighbourhood guy … 

If I’d been thinking properly, I'd have offered him some money. Of course he wanted a reward and, in the code of the 'hood, probably deserved one. But, as I told the man selling Christmas wreaths who didn't like the looks of my plastic, I don’t carry cash.

I may have to start again.

Well, That Didn't Last Long

After about six weeks My Facebook boycott has ended. I feel I've made my point. And I miss seeing pictures of my cousins' dogs.

After barely one week, my cheerful aspect in the face of the ambitious new variant has dimmed. According to the Toronto Star, Omicron sends even more people to the ICU than Delta, and snaps its fingers at vaccines. 

Better get that booster shot and brush up on those social distancing skills.

Thanks for reading!

Karen