Tuesday, October 18, 2005
So, I’m munching on a Cortland apple. Delicious. It may replace the “Royal Gala” as my apple of choice. The gala is sweet to be sure, but the Cortland is a little bit tart, like me. This apple is really pretty too. The skin is red but with yellow and greenish streaks, but the meat of it – the flesh – is paper white. That’s good snacking.
I’ve now been in Montreal for three and a half months. Working in publishing, I always assumed that my career will, at some point, take me home to Toronto. I’ve been here with a self-imposed indefinite deadline. Maybe 1 year, maybe 2, maybe 5. But this morning I was standing in front of the hand drier in one of the dodgy bathrooms that fill up my office building and a thought just leapt into my head. What if I don’t move back home? What if I just decide that this is where I am going to live?
It was a really strange moment. I was looking down at the stainless steel nozzle. I could see my reflection it in. But I was distorted due to the shape of the nozzle, my torso look small, but my breasts looked MASSIVE and my head was also small. I was laughing out loud at the way I looked. I even shook the girls around to see how it would look, yes, it was funny. Then I just stopped laughing, and I thought, ‘This is it. I’ll just live here.’
People make the decision to settle in a particular place all the time. But do they do so while shaking their tits in a public bathroom? Is this a sign that I am loosing my mind? If so, should I trust my instinct to settle in Montreal? Was that last question just a disclaimer to avoid making a definite statement about a decision I may have made with my heart, rather than my head?
These are all good questions.