Daysleeper

Another long overdue update. My apologies. Since my last update I have been away, moved into our new place and now finally have internet! So, here it is, a new post complete with pictures.

Since last time;
I think 20th August was the last update and as almost 3 weeks has passed since then I am not going to do a day by day update any more. By doing so this should be less of a diary and hopefully begin to develop into more of a blog now that we are settled and sorted.

On Tuesday 27th I went to a cottage on a lake in a place called Parry Sound with a big group of family and new friends. It was my third Canadian cottage experience and was different yet just as wonderful as the two before it. After the couple of hours drive to get there, we spent the evening sitting on the dock, drinking wine and watching the breathtaking sunset. When the day finally drew to a close, the blackest of nights meant that the stars were something else. The second and third days there were spent swimming in the lake, drinking, eating and sunbathing. We had a campfire on the last night and I was introduced to the world of smores, the tastiest post-BBQ snack ever, comprising of chocolate, melted marshmallow and biscuit all sandwiched together, hot, gooey and delicious! Being relatively new to the concept, having only heard of them but never actually having seen one, I was taught by my 7 year old cousin how to construct them, with him giving me a tutorial for the first one and then making my own. And I have to say his was way better than mine. Practice will make perfect I guess. On Friday, the day we had to leave, the weather turned a little and it rained, helping to make it just that little bit easier to leave and head back to the city.
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Saturday was moving day for us. After all the moves we have done in the last few years, this was by far the easiest! With just three suitcases and a holdall to our names, we moved into our downtown condo in 2 minutes flat, did a grocery shop and then still managed to be at the Rogers Centre for the start of the Blue Jays game at 1pm. This was our first experience of live baseball and I would like to think we were the lucky charms which helped the Jays win. It was definitely a great experience, even if we were sitting on the penultimate row in an area which smelled overwhelmingly of vomit, with a toddler (at a ball game – why?) spitting food out directly behind us and beers which cost $11 a can. We celebrated the Jays victory with some beers and nachos in a local bar and went to bed drunk and happy.

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The week which followed has been the inspiration for the title of this post. Because that is what I was. A daysleeper. The thing is, we had to wait until 9th September for cable and internet to be installed and until 5th September I didn’t have any access to internet at all until I got a new SIM for my iPhone, which has been nothing but kerfuffle anyway. So the easiest thing to do was to sleep! Now I know that you might go back to the very first post on here and say that the very reason I decided to do this blog was so that I wouldn’t spend every day unmotivated, unable to get out of bed due to the elusive “Smith sleep gene” and being a lazy, unemployed bum. Or you might say “no tv or internet? Well, why didn’t you just get up and go out and explore?!” and you would be correct on both counts. But willpower and self discipline are not my strongest points and with the greatest will in the world, I have set my alarm each and every morning for varying times, and each and every morning I have turned it off, gone back to sleep “for 10 minutes” and woken up around noon. It is an ex-hotel bed, don’t forget, so it’s extra comfy. I think I need a bed like Wallace on Wallace and Gromit, which tips you out automatically, into your clothes and deposits you at the breakfast table. Then it would need to remain vertical for the rest of the day so I couldn’t climb back into it. Or maybe, I should document the times I get up on here to shame myself into getting up earlier? Anyway, today it was 7.50am – impressive I think, although the cable guy was coming between 8-12 so I didn’t have much choice.

Anyway, when I wasn’t sleeping the rest of the week was filled with shopping trips, both food and clothes, going to the gym, reading, wandering around the streets of the TIFF (Toronto International Film Festival, which is a massive thing in the world of film that I wasn’t really aware of before now) to see if I could spot anyone famous, which I couldn’t, and not a lot else.

However, to keep your interest, there have been two vaguely interesting stories for me to tell. Firstly, let me tell you of the toilet saga;

So, Friday afternoon Matt was at work and I was writing. After a quick visit to the loo, a flush, a hand wash and then just about to turn the light out and leave the bathroom, I noticed that the bowl had not stopped filling up. And was somehow blocked somewhere. After a double take and a split second of horror, I realised that it had filled up to the rim and wasn’t stopping. And that was it. It overflowed and cascaded like a fountain onto the bathroom floor. Quickly kicking off my slippers (I know, I know, but we have wooden floors and I don’t really like wearing socks) and also taking off my trousers as they were dragging on the sopping wet floor, I thought that I needed to somehow start to scoop the water out of the toilet bowl. So in our new and sparsely equipped apartment, the only thing I could think of to grab was a pan (which has since been binned, just in case you ever find yourself having dinner here and wondering if …) but I couldn’t scoop it out as fast as it was filling up and was thinking that actually I needed to stop the flow rather than scoop the rest out. I took the top off the cistern, flicked up the ball cock (hee hee) and the water stopped. Relieved, I let go of the ball cock thinking it was all over, and it carried on filling up. So now I was standing ankle deep in toilet water, no trousers on, with a pan in one hand and holding a ball cock in the other and wondering what the hell to do next as I couldn’t move without the ball cock dropping and the water continuing to run. After carrying on with my pan scooping, contorting from my position at the toilet to stretch to the sink to pour the water out, half dressed and sopping wet, I managed to empty the water out of the toilet enough to momentarily let the ball cock go, and by some miracle the stopper which stops the water going into the toilet, which is actually the problem, righted itself, so the flow then sorted itself out allowing me to then let go of the ball cock, plunge the toilet to clear the blockage, whatever it was, and then take stock of the ridiculous situation I now had to clean up. Now, as we have just moved in we only posses a bath towel each, a hand towel and a tea towel, all of which are ours and are new and are in no way to ever be used to mop up toilet water. The only thing I had to my disposal were toilet rolls, so I had to use about 5 to mop up the water from every corner of the bathroom floor, then disinfect the floor just in case. Thinking I was almost done and going into the kitchen to get a carrier bag to throw away said toilet roll, I stepped in another puddle on the kitchen floor which for the life of me I have no idea how if came through from the bathroom, and so then had to clean that up too. In the middle of this saga, Matt phones me to see what I am doing and if I wanted to meet him for a drink after work. Laughing, I think I replied something like “err, no I think you better come home as there has been a toilet related emergency” but by the time he did make it home, I had cleaned it up, everything was as good as new and I was definitely in need of a bottle of wine. Or two. Which I was treated to along with a beautiful steak as reward for my horrendous afternoon! Good job I am a plumber’s daughter, that’s what I say.

The second story is less funny and more annoying and kind of stupid. On Saturday, the day after the toilet saga, we decided to go to Ikea to get some things to turn the apartment into more of a home and less of a hotel room. Matt had hired a car online which we were to pick up at 9am and return by 4pm. Hungover from the two bottles of wine from the night before, we got up before 8am to shower and head out. And when we got downstairs, we realised it was absolutely chucking it down and rain was forecast all day, along with storms. After getting the streetcar (the tram to us English people) and then walking three or four blocks in pretty heavy rain, we arrived soaked at the car rental place, which was surprisingly busy and the office was full of damp and disgruntled looking people. Apparently, this particular car hire place takes online reservations for cars even if they don’t actually have a car for you to rent, so when you turn up to collect it, they “see” if they can get you one from a neighbouring office but can’t guarantee if they will be able to get one or how long it will take if they can. And because all the neighbouring offices are also trying to “see” if they can get cars for people, there aren’t any cars for anyone to rent. This is the most ridiculous business model I have ever, ever seen. And couple that with being soaking wet and it being before 9am on a Saturday, you can imagine I wasn’t in the best of moods. So we walked out with no car and no trip to Ikea, which was devastating in itself. Consolation came in the form of drying off, breakfast, coffee and then a nap. Ikea will have to wait for another day.

I’m online again now so if you have emailed and are waiting for a reply, contacted me in any way or are waiting for a Skype call, I will be in touch very soon.

Today’s overheard conversation: it was extremely difficult to not turn around when I was walking along a busy street the other day and the people right behind me were talking quite loudly about how one of them was famous and had a famous dad. I’ll never know who it was but they didn’t sound famous …

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