I come to you live, from the Cleveland Court compound. A scene strewn with boxes and crumpled newspaper, bulky garbage bags and plants stuffed mercilessly into tight confines. I shall go offline tomorrow and hope to be back up tomorrow, but we shall see.
Made the trip to my condo tonight. Wow. Michael came with me (he actually picked up the keys from the realtor earlier). He brought along a measuring tape and a notebook and started measuring everything since I have commandeered him to help me put in some shelving in a couple of closets. Let me rephrase: he will be installing shelving while I blog, seated at the little bar (resplendent with galaxy granite, of course), on the little stool I will pick up at Ikea and sip my celebratory "holy shit I'm a homeowner" champagne. He's handy. And I took a bunch of great pictures but I left my camera in the apartment so I will have to upload them to this post later on.
The condo was great. It was as I remembered it and it was quiet! I bumped into a lady in the elevator and she was so sweet. I think there are a lot of older people in the building which I don't have a problem with since I sometimes like to go to bed at 9pm. Maybe I'll get cable and start watching Matlock too.
It's crazy. Tomorrow is going to be a gong show, no doubt. I can't wait until the movers have dropped off the last of my stuff so I can start to organize and assess what all needs to be done. I have a lot of wants and needs. Regarding the condo as well, ha ha. I want a wireless internet connection. I need a bed frame. I need curtains. I want a cool, white and woolly rug. I need to figure out how to operate my fridge, stove, microwave and DISHWASHER. I haven't had a dishwasher in eight or nine years. I need a place to put my shitty t.v. I want a flat screen t.v.
Yeah. I am not entirely sure what to say right now. I'm on the precipice of what, I think, will be a major change in my life. I think it will be a quieter and more demure life and I believe I'm ready for that. One can only go for so many long Sunday runs with a hangover. I think I'd like to try cooking more. And hiking. And kayaking. Maybe I can make some time for my writing. Perhaps I finally have something to say. I look forward to exploring all that North Van has to offer, and when I feel nostalgic for my halcyon Kerrisdale days I can go to West Van and almost get hit by Lexus' and Mercedes galore and be looked at with the same amount of scorn that was levied my way when I showed up at my financial advisor's office today to pick up my bank draft for the condo. The bank draft was for a lot of money. And so I showed up in jeans, boots, a hoodie and my jaunty cap. The woman at client services ID'd me. It was awesome. I am my father's daughter.
So. What does Central Lonsdale hold for me? I am not sure. I anticipate it will be a bit more of a solitary existence (who voted "hell, no" by the way?), but with the occasional hijinks at... wherever the happening place is. The Hurricane Grill has been recommended. It will also be an existence fraught with danger: I may get eaten by a bear while hiking; I may drown on the seabus; I may join a bridge club with a bunch of octegenarians... but I don't know how to play bridge! Plus, my apartment is on the 10th floor so you just know that I'm going to have one too many glasses of wine and want to do my tightrope walker impression on the balcony balustrade.
Wow. This has been a long blog. So yes. Thank you Kerrisdale, for seven-ish great years. I've enjoyed adjusting the door closing mechanism under the cover of darkness because the front door (located under my bedroom) slams sometimes. I've enjoyed going out on errands and being recognized by the people at my fruit and veg store, at Rogers and bumping into my good friend L who lives and works here. And yes, I've even enjoyed the goddamn Cheshire Cheese; it just took me seven years to figure out which two items on their menu were edible. The Shaugnessy 8k. Running hills. Not being able to regulate the heat in my apartment. Spending too much time wondering why my upstairs neighbour never did come through on his dinner offer. He was a chef, for Chrissakes!! And I can't cook: it was perfect! The bastard.
Ah. What great witticisms do I have for this (possible) final blog from this location? I believe I have none. Okay, maybe I have one: I regret nothing. Everything that I have accomplished, everything that exploded in my face, everything that made me laugh and cry was for a purpose and I learned from it all. I wouldn't be who I am or where I am if I hadn't been here when I was here.
Made the trip to my condo tonight. Wow. Michael came with me (he actually picked up the keys from the realtor earlier). He brought along a measuring tape and a notebook and started measuring everything since I have commandeered him to help me put in some shelving in a couple of closets. Let me rephrase: he will be installing shelving while I blog, seated at the little bar (resplendent with galaxy granite, of course), on the little stool I will pick up at Ikea and sip my celebratory "holy shit I'm a homeowner" champagne. He's handy. And I took a bunch of great pictures but I left my camera in the apartment so I will have to upload them to this post later on.
The condo was great. It was as I remembered it and it was quiet! I bumped into a lady in the elevator and she was so sweet. I think there are a lot of older people in the building which I don't have a problem with since I sometimes like to go to bed at 9pm. Maybe I'll get cable and start watching Matlock too.
It's crazy. Tomorrow is going to be a gong show, no doubt. I can't wait until the movers have dropped off the last of my stuff so I can start to organize and assess what all needs to be done. I have a lot of wants and needs. Regarding the condo as well, ha ha. I want a wireless internet connection. I need a bed frame. I need curtains. I want a cool, white and woolly rug. I need to figure out how to operate my fridge, stove, microwave and DISHWASHER. I haven't had a dishwasher in eight or nine years. I need a place to put my shitty t.v. I want a flat screen t.v.
Yeah. I am not entirely sure what to say right now. I'm on the precipice of what, I think, will be a major change in my life. I think it will be a quieter and more demure life and I believe I'm ready for that. One can only go for so many long Sunday runs with a hangover. I think I'd like to try cooking more. And hiking. And kayaking. Maybe I can make some time for my writing. Perhaps I finally have something to say. I look forward to exploring all that North Van has to offer, and when I feel nostalgic for my halcyon Kerrisdale days I can go to West Van and almost get hit by Lexus' and Mercedes galore and be looked at with the same amount of scorn that was levied my way when I showed up at my financial advisor's office today to pick up my bank draft for the condo. The bank draft was for a lot of money. And so I showed up in jeans, boots, a hoodie and my jaunty cap. The woman at client services ID'd me. It was awesome. I am my father's daughter.
So. What does Central Lonsdale hold for me? I am not sure. I anticipate it will be a bit more of a solitary existence (who voted "hell, no" by the way?), but with the occasional hijinks at... wherever the happening place is. The Hurricane Grill has been recommended. It will also be an existence fraught with danger: I may get eaten by a bear while hiking; I may drown on the seabus; I may join a bridge club with a bunch of octegenarians... but I don't know how to play bridge! Plus, my apartment is on the 10th floor so you just know that I'm going to have one too many glasses of wine and want to do my tightrope walker impression on the balcony balustrade.
Wow. This has been a long blog. So yes. Thank you Kerrisdale, for seven-ish great years. I've enjoyed adjusting the door closing mechanism under the cover of darkness because the front door (located under my bedroom) slams sometimes. I've enjoyed going out on errands and being recognized by the people at my fruit and veg store, at Rogers and bumping into my good friend L who lives and works here. And yes, I've even enjoyed the goddamn Cheshire Cheese; it just took me seven years to figure out which two items on their menu were edible. The Shaugnessy 8k. Running hills. Not being able to regulate the heat in my apartment. Spending too much time wondering why my upstairs neighbour never did come through on his dinner offer. He was a chef, for Chrissakes!! And I can't cook: it was perfect! The bastard.
Ah. What great witticisms do I have for this (possible) final blog from this location? I believe I have none. Okay, maybe I have one: I regret nothing. Everything that I have accomplished, everything that exploded in my face, everything that made me laugh and cry was for a purpose and I learned from it all. I wouldn't be who I am or where I am if I hadn't been here when I was here.
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