Week. Weak? Weeeek.

Last week was banana-pants crazy. Well ha ha no it wasn't, but as I said to Angus when he texted asking me how I was I texted back "This week I am out three nights in a row, which I am too old for, and also running one library and working in three others, which I am too lazy for". 

The previous week-end we took my parents to Prince Edward County and met my sister and her husband to celebrate my mom and dad's eightieth and eighty-third birthdays. The weekend was glorious - rained on the drive there and the drive home, but we did a super-fun wine tour with a fabulous limo driver/ guide on Saturday and the weather stayed nice and it was SO much fun (pictures to follow). 

So the week-end was lovely but not restful (wine. Also gin. Some rum. I stole a few chairs). Monday I got to my library and all the shelves were moved around. This is secondary to them being moved around the PREVIOUS Monday in a completely unworkable fashion for sightlines and student safety. So now they were in a better configuration, but none of the sections were together anymore. You know how this is for children to find books? It is NOT GREAT. Why did it happen? Because the projector had to be moved, which meant the tables had to be oriented differently. The new projector was purchased last year, so could this maybe have been done a few weeks earlier when no circulation was happening yet because the other librarian is on leave and we were still figuring out how Library Time was going to work? NOBODY KNOWS. Well, someone probably does, but why would that be me, I'm just the FREAKING LIBRARIAN.

*deep breath*. So now pretty much every book in the library has to be moved. And I'm only there one day a week. 

The office administrator has been outstandingly helpful (and comforting, because I think I keep walking around with crazy eyes trying to process all of this), and there's a parent volunteer who comes in to help shelve - she came in and got a lot of the non-fiction section moved. In between my dozen classes, I moved a bunch of the other books. I was not properly dressed or adequately stressed for heavy manual labour, and it was... I don't even know what it was, it all went by in a blur.

The rest of the week was other school libraries, and Thursday I had book club and Friday I had World Trivia Night and Saturday I had a Halloween party and Sunday I had a hangover (I have no plans to imbibe this Saturday or Sunday, lest you all gain the impression I am a Weekend Lush). 

Every day I had to go out in the evening I came home and whined and flopped around and complained that I had to go out again, and every evening I went out I had an amazing time (try not to roll your eyes too hard, I don't want anyone to endanger their vision). 

I sometimes find this kind of thing completely overwhelming, but I felt like I was doing pretty well. I complained and made whale noises (Eve's technique when she doesn't feel like doing something, it's surprisingly satisfying) but I didn't melt down or collapse or withdraw from the world. Win! Except last night I went into the kitchen to empty out my glass of water and put it in the dishwasher. I dumped it and then looked down and Matt turned around from the kitchen and said "what? Did you...just dump your water in the garbage can instead of the sink?" And I said "yes, yes I did." Less win! Maybe let's have a calmer week! 

Two days until NaBloPoMo. Ha ha, I'm like a couch potato who signs up to run a marathon. In two days. 

Mildly Surly Thursday

 I'm not really surly. This week has been pretty good, after last week's intense-fest (Eve being home, Matt being sick with Covid, me trying to work and feed and nurse everyone). 

I love my job. I get to work with books, I get to see kids, many of whom love coming to the library, and I get to do it part-time so it doesn't burn out my body and brain. I was having a major back issue that was really distressing, and I finally figured out that it was the crappy chairs, not the being on my feet. I started bringing a cushion and it has nearly resolved, which is a massive relief.

Last year at my Thursday school the grade sevens and eights coming in at recess were loud and disruptive and stressing me out. I don't like shushing, and I try really hard not to think of any student as "bad", and I felt ineffective and started to dread Thursdays. Then one of my friends (HI KERRY) said "okay, but you know how some adults are just assholes? Some kids are also just assholes" and it was a huge lightbulb moment. Some kids are just assholes! It doesn't mean they're evil, or irredeemable, but it does mean it's not fun to have them around right now, and THAT'S OKAY. Plus I found out they weren't actually allowed to come in the library at recess and were counting on me not knowing that, so it all got better.

Last week on Thursday there was a class in and when the teacher told them (several times) to line up because they were leaving, some boys in the back corner in the comfy chairs ignored her (or didn't hear her because they were being loud). I went back finally and said they'd been asked multiple times to leave and ignoring their teacher was disrespectful and rude. One boy said "wait, are we getting kicked out or is it our time to leave?" and I said "a little of both!" which he took with great equanimity. And I felt kind of like a tv show school librarian who is strict AND funny.

It is really kind of cool being able to wandering around schools and experience everything without having to be an actual teacher (because lord, I could never). On my way into one school on Wednesday I held the door for two little boys, one of whom had a spider in his hands that they had found in the classroom and were releasing outside (I mean COME ON). Then today two little girls started to hold the door for me and then changed their minds and ran away laughing. In the library on Thursdays the kids have cards to check their own books out, and one little girl called out "Madame Allison, something went wrong!" and I knew that I would know how to fix it, which is kind of a cool feeling that I almost never have anywhere else.

So it's a constant sort of thing that in a school library you're always trying to get books checked in as quickly as possible, because most of the main librarians don't allow students to check out books if they still have books. But if there are piles of books waiting to be checked in, I can't tell who has returned their books and who hasn't. So when I come in and there are bins of books, I have to figure out which books belong to the classes I'm about to see. Does that makes sense?

It's the best when teachers send down their books at the start of the day, but I completely understand why sometimes they can't, or forget. Sometimes there is a pile of books and I start checking them in and they belong to a class I'm not even going to see that day, in which case I get undeservedly kind of ticked off, like what's even the point of getting these checked in now? This is dumb - it's always better to get them checked in and back on the shelves, but that is my first cranky impulse, because I frequently forget that I don't actually have to rush because I am The Librarian and nothing happens until I say it can happen, so just sit your little butts down and wait until I finish scanning these, and DON'T TOUCH THAT YET.

Both Eve and I had long days after nights with almost no sleep yesterday, so when we texted at the end of the day we were both eager to tell each other something funny. Even funnier was that we wanted to tell each other the same thing and weren't sure if the other one knew it already. Eve's BFF Marianna has a Coton de Tulear dog named Piper, who is a bolter, unlike Lucy who sometimes goes out when we're unloading groceries and gets accidentally left outside, and barks on the step to come back in. Piper got out yesterday while workers were in the house, which I saw when the mom (who is a friend) posted in the Lost Pets neighbourhood group on Facebook, so I texted her. I knew she was afraid to tell Marianna who is many provinces away and would totally freak out. A few hours later I saw on the Facebook post that Piper had been found and was at the Humane Society....

...in doggy jail

I texted Di and told her she had to use that picture for their Christmas card. I texted Eve and she texted back "STOP I was going to tell you! Piper behind bars!"

On my way home from work today I stopped at the grocery store. As I was driving into the parking lot I saw an elderly woman get out of her car and just stand there. I parked and was walking to the store and saw her still standing there, which seemed concerning, so I caught her eye and smiled. She said "could I please take your arm?" and I said sure. She was quite wobbly, and I asked if she was there alone. She said her cat was out of food and that was the only reason she was there. As we walked into the store, a really on-the-ball very young staff member asked if we needed a cart and passed it to her. I asked if she wanted me to go with her and walk her back to her car after but she said she'd just use the cart to lean on. I thought afterwards that I should have given her my number and just told her to call me if she ran out of cat food again and I would drop it off, but I couldn't find her. 

So obviously any residual surliness evaporated, because how crummy that she had no one to call, and thinking about how she must have felt standing there, unsure if she could make it across the parking lot, kind of makes me feel like crying. But I got to literally help a little old lady across the street. 

Nuts (and Dairy and Gluten. and Smoke)

 Matt drove Eve back to Hamilton yesterday preparatory to flying out of Toronto to Korea today. He's feeling much better and neither Eve or I have gotten Covid. I did go to the doctor to address the apparent lung inflammation still hanging on from when I did get Covid a year and a half ago. I think I may have gotten a cold at the beginning of September when school started and the cough is really wearing on me - it's merely annoying for a few days and then suddenly it is extremely exhausting and aggravating. Let's go, little orange inhaler. 

They're supposed to be rolling out a flu-shot/new Covid shot combo here for high-risk populations so I went online to see what I could book for my parents. I found it extremely confusing to figure out exactly who was eligible, and nowhere seemed to have the combo appointments available, so I booked them for flu shots at Walmart this morning and Covid shots a half hour away at the end of October. Then my mom emailed that they went for their flu shots and also got Covid shots. Which is a bit loony, but the rollout was bound to be a bit wonky, and I'm not mad at the result. 

So last week-end, before the newest super-fun Covid fuckery, on Thursday morning I drove my mom out to a neighbouring town's legion to do her over-eighty driver's license renewal, which means watching a video and doing a desultory vision and dementia test. My dad was going to follow us because he wasn't confident he could find the place easily but he was going to drive her home afterward so I wouldn't be late for work.

The drive went great, but the sign for the parking lot was ambiguous so I overshot, which resulted in driving up a very narrow drive that dropped off precipitously on one edge and had nowhere obvious to turn around. And naturally my dad followed me. I was torn between hysteria and dread, but he managed to turn around (just as another senior was driving in behind us doing the exact same thing, seriously Stittsville Legion, get better signage). We got to the correct parking lot and I walked her in the back entrance which felt like a murder hallway and reeked of stale smoke. I made sure they were good and went to work. After work I drove nearly to Hamilton so I would be ready to drive Eve home after her midterm Friday.

Not to bang on yet again about my exalted hotel status, but stay with me, it makes a good story. I checked in and read for a bit and then fell asleep around one a.m. At about two-thirty a.m. the fire alarm went off, and I was so confused and so unable to figure out where I was or what was happening I just laid there for a bit. Then I opened my door and people were leaving, so I grabbed my purse and a bottle of water and found the stairs. 

It was rainy and dark and people were bleary-eyed and bewildered, but everyone - even the kids - was well-behaved. A fire truck pulled up, so it seemed like it wasn't a false alarm, which meant this could suck hard, but there was no obvious fire. At some point I heard the receptionist say there was smoke on the first floor but no fire, so they were just trying to clear it. It was about half an hour all in, and it took me an annoyingly long time to get back to sleep, but could have been much worse. 

When I went to check out, I grabbed a diet pepsi for the drive and asked if I could sign it to the room and then check out. The receptionist asked how my stay was. I said the fire alarm wasn't fun, but it was well handled. She said the hotel is attached to apartments and someone had burned something on the stove so there was smoke. Then she asked if she could add some points to my account 'for my inconvenience'. I think I looked kind of horrified and said no, it wasn't anyone' fault, but she said "Thank-you for being so patient, but I will anyway - and just take the Diet Pepsi". I got the feeling people with status are typically more entitled, and it was one of those 'god, it's such a low bar' moments. 

So then I drove into Hamilton and ambled around the university bookstore and then ambled around the little bookstore down the street from Eve's house in an unhurried fashion, and it was lovely, and then I met my professor and we walked around the Westdale shops and then sat outside to have tea because the weather was beautiful. We talked about work and books and Eve right up until Eve texted that she was done her midterm, so I told Jean to just jump in the car and we'd pick up Eve and she could say hi, and then I'd drop Jean at her house on our way to grab Eve's stuff and hit the road.

We drove to campus (literally one minute down the road), but had gotten our signals crossed so Eve had started walking home, so we turned back and started driving up the road. We saw Eve just as her housemate was running across the road to join her. Eve and Jaden got in the car, which meant it became apparent that I had been collecting beverages on my double drive - Diet Pepsi, orange juice, water, green juice - and I felt like I was in one of those bizarre dreams: "and then I was in the car with my old Comp Lit professor and my daughter and another random girl, and everyone had to hold bottles of liquid because all the seats were full of drinks". And as we were driving her home Jean started talking about all the black walnuts her trees had been dropping - "two thousand, eight hundred and fifty" - and Jayden, who is never shy about voicing her thoughts, yelped "WHY DID YOU COUNT THEM?" and it was hilarious. We dropped Jean off and by the time we got back to Eve's house Jean had already texted a picture of the yard waste bags full of walnuts. She is such a funny, brilliant, eccentric little woman.

We went back to Eve's house and got her stuff and started driving. Just before we got on the highway we saw this. So many questions. University towns are such a chaotic trip.

Wrenches and Hitches

This past weekend was Thanksgiving in Canada, which is always the first weekend of Eve's fall break. I drove down after work last Thursday to be ready to drive home with her after her late-afternoon mid-term Friday. That all went great, but then Saturday morning Matt texted that he had Covid tested before getting on his flight home from Glasgow and he was positive, although just barely symptomatic. This threw all of our Thanksgiving plans into disarray, since my parents had been planning to come over for dinner Sunday but the new vaccine is going to be just a few weeks late to cover Thanksgiving here. 

We rallied fairly well, partly because this is just something you kind of have to expect will happen now, and because we had decided to order the Farm Boy Thanksgiving dinner since Eve and I and Matt would just be getting home and be tired from traveling. With my parents not coming and Matt coming home and heading straight to the basement, this meant I would not be spending all day cooking a meal I would only be eating with Eve (or alone, as it turned out, because she felt like she was getting sick, but it turned out to only be sniffles with no positive test ever). My parents turned 83 and 80 on September 20 and 23, and we're planning a weekend away with them and my sister and brother-in-law in a couple of weeks, so that will make up for it, as long as everybody can stay relatively healthy for it - it will be a worse blow if we have to cancel that one.

I divided the dinner up when we got it and delivered half to my mom and dad. They were fairly cheerful, all things considered. Fortunately they enjoy each other's company, and my mom has been keeping busy by baking a truckload of stuff for Eve to take back when she goes - she share with her housemates, who wrote my mom a letter of thanks addressed to "Dear Mrs. Evie's Grandma", which has redoubled her culinary enthusiasm. My dad also makes her a double batch of pancakes to freeze and have for breakfasts, and then pretends to be angry that she's taking them - this has kind of been their thing since she was little. 

Then it started raining on Saturday and didn't stop until today. We did the pumpkin patch thing with Eve and the friends that were home, but the epic, multi-pose, hilarious photo shoot we usually do wasn't happening - it was pouring, and windy, and freezing cold. 

But we still got to hang out with Davis and her boyfriend and her mom. And Eve still went and painted pumpkins with Davis and Jackson - one that matched her outfit perfectly. 

And Eve and I watched the finale of Only Murders in the Building together and tomorrow night we're going to watch Bottoms, which she saw in the theatre in Hamilton and loved and wants me to see ("it makes absolutely no sense, but it's hilarious.") And she got lots of Lucy cuddles. AND she just found out she got a sizeable role in the musical she auditioned for. And I bought a hepafilter and set it up outside the kitchen and powder room, and Matt has only come upstairs with an N95 on and no one else has gotten sick by day five of him being home, and he feels well enough that he can probably go do his invited talk in Korea next week.

All the Facebook memories from previous Thanksgivings made me a little like this:

But also like this:

 There were good times, and there will be again. We had a crowded house, and we will again. And honestly, having a hot turkey sandwich while binge-watching (I had to go to 'binge-watching' because I couldn't decide if 'binging' or 'bingeing' looked weirder) the last season of Sex Education in my pajamas was not the worst Thanksgiving I can imagine. 

First World Problems of Various Levels

 First of all, before I unintentionally start a class war, the whole "you get a room even if they have to bump someone" at Titanium status was a throwaway comment made by Matt that I suspect can't really be true. Also, I think this is less a 'rich people' thing than a 'people who spend way too much time on the road' thing. When I researched it a little, it does say that Titanium status means if you book your room 48 hours a head you are guaranteed a room. I think it's much more likely that a few rooms are kept aside and magically appear even if the hotel is 'full'. Also, there are 'terms and conditions', so who the hell knows. At any rate, we almost always book our hotel rooms way ahead, and we would never kick anyone out of their room. Even if we have to say "please do not give us a room if you have to turf someone else out of theirs". 

For the last few years there has been an increasingly bold series of car thefts (SUV thefts) in my little neighbourhood. People wake up to find their vehicles have been taken right out of their driveway while they slept. Our vehicle wasn't on the list of the most popular ones to steal, but last week it was someone we sort of knew who fell victim.

As if that's not alarming enough, there was a news article about several daylight robberies that have taken place here. Four men pull up in a big black truck, knock and if there's no response they force their way in. 

We don't put our vehicle in the garage until the snow falls and Matt clears out all the crap that accumulates in their over the spring and summer. We should, but I'm always in a hurry in the morning and the extra few minutes to open the garage door, back the car out and close the garage door factor in more heavily than they should (yes, I know this is shameful on my part, I am who I am, it's too late to go back).

I often don't answer knocks on the door when I'm home alone unless I know someone I know is coming over. I do sometimes, but sometimes I'm not dressed for human consumption and I can't face talking to someone and I know odds are it's someone wanting to seal my driveway or hound me about fake charitable donations (I am all for charitable donations, to organizations I research carefully ahead of time and usually donate to monthly). Now every time I hear a knock I'm going to think I should rush to the door and make sure they know someone is here. Although what happens when someone comes to the door and sees four guys and a big black truck? Do they pretend they're selling cookies? I'm using humour inappropriately because my husband is hardly ever home right now and I could convince myself to be terrified if I tried, so I'm trying not to. 

I'm not freaking way out over this (mostly). I'm not joining the chorus of "oh, what has become of our safe, wonderful little town". This shit is what it is, times are tougher than ever, and I'd rather hear about increased property crimes than assaults and rapes and murders. I realize this is a nice privileged position to hold, but that's kind of my point, honestly. There's a quote about having more to lose meaning that you have more that I keep thinking about. It's not that I think these criminals are Robin Hood-ing and robbing the rich to give to the poor. They're probably mean, petty little assholes (maybe they have an origin story about some rich jackass stealing their hotel room). So I don't know what my point is, except now when I get home from work I'm pleasantly surprised if my house is unmolested and when I get up in the morning I'm delighted if the vehicle is still in the driveway. 

I had to go to my CPAP supplier and then run a couple other errands today. On the way home there's an ice cream place, and I keep thinking I want to get ice cream and never getting it, so I thought dammit, I'm getting an ice cream cone and I'll drive home with it and I don't care that I hate food touching my face and hands, it will be completely fine. 

(Spoiler alert: It wasn't completely fine).

First of all, I hadn't been to this place for a long time and totally forgot that small isn't small. You have to order extra-small, or mini, or tiny, or don't-terrify-me-with-ice-cream or something ridiculous. Small is AT LEAST medium. Then I didn't really want it dipped, but she said "regular dip or (some other kind of dip)" and I just blanked and picked a dip. The dip is too thick and hard to bite through. 

I felt the first splatters hit my cleavage as I was walking back to the car and I knew I had chosen poorly. It's thirty degrees. I'm wearing a white dress. It's already melting, and every time I bite the coating the ice cream springs new leaks.

I wrapped a few napkins around the cone and thought, fuck it. My dress is washable. The car seats are leather (shit, does that make it more stealable? I told Matt they were too fancy for us). I can wash my face and hands when I get home.

It was a long (not really), melty, comical drive. I licked the cone, I licked the napkins, I licked my hand. I steered one-handed and still got the steering wheel sticky. I had to eat distressingly big chunks of chocolate defensively so they didn't fall in my lap. And I hit every single red light. But I'm old and beyond shame and have no regrets. If anyone saw me through their car window, I hope I gave them a good story.