New year's Eve was relatively quiet for me, although certainly more active than recent years in that I actually went somewhere: I went to Beaverton, on Lake Simcoe, to my friend Trevor's cottage. I hadn't been there in about ten years, and it was interesting to see how the place had changed since I had last visited (for example, it's two stories now).
It was a small gathering —six of us in total— but it was a good time. Trevor barbecued ribs for dinner (yum), Ian made frosty alcoholic drinks (yum), and Shane set off fireworks at midnight (holy fuck).
In case you're picturing "Quaint Roman Candle Display", I mention in passing that Shane is a pyrotechnician by trade and by hobby. To give you an idea of scale, he is the tiny grey smudge at the bottom of the photograph below.
When Shane said "It will be visible in Barrie", we had assumed he just meant "it's going to be large". I have no doubt that the folks in Barrie could see that display. Also, hello-o-o-o-o, neighbours.
He's not paid rent in 3 weeks... Was last seen on Dec 21 or 22 and reminded that I wanted him gone by Dec 28. He thought that was do-able.
I went home for Christmas and came back on the 28th to find the freezer and bathroom clear of HMD's stuff, but everything else here (though no car).
Texts and Voicemail messages left. No word back. Some time on the 29th, his phone was switched off, so calls went direct to message bank. I tracked down his work number online - both the phone and fax get picked up by fax machines. beeeeeeeeep to you, too.
Gnomeangel told me to have the locks changed, but I let HB get in my head with his "you're being unreasonable, over-reacting, ridiculous..." - that, combined with not being able to get a locksmith until the new year, made me wait. (HB's still paying his half of the mortgage, and popping by - when I'm not hear - to take more of his books and things. I don't want him to be accusing me of locking him out of 'his' house, and my solicitor-friend agrees that I need to be keeping him in the loop.)
I get home from Sydney yesterday; everything's still here.
Snooping in HMD's room this morning, I discovered a stack of business cards: drug and alcohol counselling, and an AFP an a Parole officer's cards included. Joy oh fucking joy.
So: the possibilities are: he's a complete jerk; he's gone fishing; he's dead somewhere; and, a late entry, he's in jail.
I go down to the local cop shop to ask them what my options are... Move his stuff into the garage and change the locks. I text HB to tell him I will be changing the locks. He calls me back; he's all "are you sure? really? you think so? well, I suppose if you really want to, then I wouldn't have a problem with it." Umm, yeah, thanks.
A couple of hours later, he texts me: "I can help you move HMD's stuff on Wednesday, if you like." FFS. Remember the part where I've told you multiple times that I've got someone moving in on Tuesday the 5th? Wednesday's no good to me. And I'm not feeling generous enough to issue points for effort; sorry.
Bah!
I don't want another year of being negative. I want my baggage gone. I don't want to have to deal with HB's wishy washiness anymore. I don't want to have to deal with HMD's stuff. I don't want to have to be a grown up, and have to deal with sorting out what to do with my house. Do. Not. Want. I also don't want to keep interpreting things in the worst possible way (OMG the world is ending). I don't want to keep on with these pity parties... And so, I'm going to get off my backside now, and go be productive :)
“Hello, it is 11:30 on new years eve. I'm calling you from Fertility(?) the walk and then I'm so just really having run(?). Waiting setting up from fireworks to kick in and I'm wishing you all happy new year and I also wanted to thank you all for everything you've done with this year. There's some fireworks going off somewhere. I'm not in ___ still works ___. Anyway I don't answer me and see if more than what part was here lies in the beach. So I bring 20 10 2010 whatever you wanna call it it's market improvement. Love you guys all. Happy new year. See you on the good side. See ya.”
I got cut off before I finished this one, but it's possibly a little clearer than the other one?
I hate the way I seem to be ending every sentence with a question mark... It's an Australian thing to do, but I hope I'm not usually as bad an offender as I am here!
Ahhh, Autotune. Converter of Audio Turds to Sugar-frosted Audio Turds. Cher brought you to our attention with "Believe", T-Payne openly embraced you, and "Autotune the News" made you viral.
And now, wonderfully, you give us this:
"A More Glorious Dawn" -- Carl Sagan ft. Stephen Hawking
In Canada (and other places without the words "United" and "States" in their names), the day after Christmas is a satutory holiday called Boxing Day (we don't know why it's called that. Really. There's a bunch of theories). Because Boxing Day fell on a Saturday this year, it is being "observed" today.
Which means I am being paid double-time-and-a-half to tell you this. BOO-yah!
I forgot to say this earlier, but Merry Christmas, everyone!
Mine was relative low-key this year, and has, in fact, been split into two separate events: one that took place on the 25th, and one that takes place tomorrow, on the 28th. The 25th was Christmas with my folks, my older brother, and my sister. My nieces were there for the early afternoon, so there were enough of us to fill out the couches and chairs.
Everyone seemed to enjoy their presents from me. My family still doesn't quite know what to get me, so other than things I specifically asked for, I got random items like "box of chocolates" or "spindle of blank DVDs". My older brother's present for me has been delayed in the mail, and my younger brother will give me his on the 28th, so there are still prezzies ahead for me. Yay! (My birthday is coming up —today is the third day of Murmus— but my family annoyingly does not give each other gifts on birthdays)
The afternoon was spent back at my place with my sister and my brother, watching "District 9" (which my brother got for Christmas). Then it was back to Mom & Dad's for dinner.
Christmas dinner was a challenge, in much the way they have "challenges" on Survivor. In particular, one called something like "Do You Dare Eat This?" Mom cooked the turkey from frozen this year, and it didn't quite cook all the way through. We had our choice of white meat, dark meat, or pink meat. As well, my folks' attention to plate/glass/cutlery cleanliness has waned over the years, to the extent that my sister and I usually try to quietly wash all the dishes before dinner. It's hard to do that at Christmas, with Mom and Dad bustling about in the kitchen and getting short-tempered with each other (and me — I mashed the potatos Wrong).
Dad's diabetic, so they have both sugar and sweetener available for coffee. When I inquired which the bowl in front of me contained, Mom wet her finger in her mouth, dunked it in the powder, tasted it, and identified it as sugar (at which point everyone had their coffee black).
I didn't eat much, and what I did eat I was fairly careful about.
I go back for another dinner with them tomorrow night (assuming I can get out of work at a decent time, which is by no stretch of the imagination guaranteed to happen) and I'm hoping to get there early enough to give the dishes a good washing and perhaps mainline some antibiotics before dinner.
Anyhow, again: Merry Christmas, f-list. Love you guys.
I love my iPhone. I take it with me everywhere, and listen to music almost constantly on it now. I do this even when I'm just going downstairs to get my laundry out of the dryer, fold it, and bring it back up to the apartment.
As well, there are a few songs that give me genuinely Happy feet — I find it almost impossible to stay still when they come on. One such song is "Neutron Dance" by the Pointer Sisters, and it came up in the random rotation as I was coming up with my laundry.
Stepping out of the elevator, a quick look down all three hallways revealed I had them all to myself, and I ended up Happy Feeting my way down the hallway to my apartment. I was seriously into it, laundry basket on one hip, other hand snapping fingers as I bopped alll the way down the hall to my apartment. I let myself in, turned around to close the door...
..and discovered I had an audience. Of course I had an audience; you knew that was coming the moment I started dancing, didn't you? A mother and her two little girls were standing down by the elevators, looking at me. I have no idea if they were waiting for an elevator, or had stepped out and then stood in awe at the spectacle of my truly horrific dance moves, but they were staring at me slightly gape-mouthed and looking highly amused. As my door swung shut, I gave them the royal wave, and they burst into applause.
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