Hi Everyone,
Some blog just write themselves. This is what I mean.
Let’s flash back to a warm spring day when things were going well. You know a day where I did not have to rearrange my schedule only to search for an available day and time in my calendar to reschedule something that I just had to cancel. You know, a day when I did not have to calm the chaos. And because I was having a pretty good day, I thought I would continue that by having some fun. Off to the Eaton’s Centre I went to run some errands.
On my way I saw a pile of toiletries on the front step of a business. There were two shampoo and conditioner samples, two small bars of packaged soap and razors with shaving cream in plastic packages and a pad of paper that I put in my handbag. I left the pen, string knapsack and whatever else that did not interest me. Walking in front of me I saw a woman wearing baggy clothes with two string knapsacks. Both were stretched to their limits. Wondering how many toiletries she had, I passed her.
After a quick stop at a store I was off to get a bite to eat. Burger King has been one of my favourite fast food places for decades. Whoppers were kind of on my mind and it was Whopper Wednesday so why not? As I walked on the sidewalk, under the scaffolding, I saw two women staring into a cell phone. Just as I passed them, I heard the concern in their voices. One was about my age and the other looked like her mother. They were lost. Stopping to help I gave them the directions to the Pickle Barrel. It was a restaurant that I have been craving. My visit would have to wait. Going to a restaurant that I just gave strangers directions to would be weird. You know like walking with your then boyfriend and being followed by someone who looks exactly like someone you know.
The line at Burger King was short for that time of day and the service was quick. The only available place to sit was a four-seater by the exit and the bathroom. Half-way through my Whopper, a female stands by the bathroom entrance and yells, “Open the bathroom!” If she said please, I have forgotten. Although she did say, “Sorry about that everyone,” when silence followed her request. It was then that I noticed all of the new signs. There were several for who could use the bathroom and how long people could stay. All were clearly posted within eye lines. And then someone came into panhandle. He went to every table and paused longer in front of families with very young children. It was then that I got up and spoke to the cashier.
With my whopper digesting I walked towards the Shopper’s Drug Mart passing the female who used the bathroom. She was sitting on cardboard in front of the Tim Horton’s with a guy and a dog. All were panhandling.
A security guard with hair down to her elbows stood holding the door to the Shopper’s while staring down Yonge Street. My first thought was they were robbed and they were. I know this because one of the employees was speaking to someone on the telephone, “… not sure but it was one of the big boxes.” The eighteen-year-old and eighteen-day old security guard wandered around swinging her hair. The cashier and I had a quick conversation about their being robbed, the number of zombie-like people on drugs and how it is just getting worse. Because it is. Anyway…. Now that I had my vitamin C, I was off to get some cough drops across the street.
The crowded sidewalk did not stop a young yet decrypt looking man from holding the door open with one hand and a paper cup in the other. There was a crack stick poking out of the pocket of his black leather jacket too. Refusing to enter the door he was holding, I went to the revolving door. A male security guard resembling Robo-cop walked towards me. It would appear that 10 Dundas takes their security more seriously than the Shopper’s Drug Mart.
Dollarama was a zoo. I was in line three and a quarter seconds after I got my cough drops. This time someone was putting away stock in what is called the Impulse Aisle. Which was good since I am so sick of watching people steal. Like the last time I was there I watched some guy count seven packages of batteries and walk out. He didn’t even bother to put them in his coat pocket. That did not mean things were quote unquote normal because they weren’t. While in line and at cash, some guy who, for a lack of a better term, looked relatively normal was singing opera quite loudly. I am serious. Before I left the cash area I said, “Good luck,” to the woman who rang me through.
On my way out, a man was exiting at the same time. That was when my verbal diarrhea started. I just told him everything that I wrote about. I ended with, “I have to get out of here because who knows what the next 12 minutes holds.” I went home as fast as I could.
Grateful to be within my four walls, I turned on the TV and watched the news. Moments after the headlines a friend called and I told them, “You know, I just wanted to have a normal day. But you just can’t. Oh, listen to this I found a pile of toiletries on some steps. They were from, Project Water. It’s just on the news.”
I could go on but I won’t. If my 976 words haven’t painted a clear picture of how my fun day ended, another 24 or more words isn’t going to do it.
Thank you for reading, A. Rebel’s Rant! ;D
PS Days after my daughter gave me her wide collection of nail polish, I found a medium sized make-up bag bursting with, you guessed it, nail polish. That was last year. Right now, something in my gut told me I should add that. Just saying.
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