As Promised, As Delivered
A few weekends ago, I was up in Oshawa helping clean up my late grandfather’s house in preparation for selling. It was one of those unique situations: due to Mel needing to drive a friend out to Niagara that weekend on a family emergency, I was on my own for transportation. I didn’t complain, of course. Commuting up to Toronto was nothing new to me, as many of you already know. Hell, I made at least a bi-monthly habit of it back in the day when I was at college. Every other weekend, if not 3 out of 4 weekends each month were spent nabbing the Greyhound and not sleeping for two straight days.
And so, that particular Saturday night after my shift ended, I hopped onto a Greyhound bus and caught a ride out to Toronto. (Before you Torontonians angrily decry, “Wait! You were in TO and you didn’t tell us?!”, please bear in mind I arrived in Toronto at 10pm that night, left with Gary for Oshawa at 8am the next morning, and he generously volunteered to drive me straight back to KW afterwards. I spent a grand total of ten hours in the city, and most of that was spent desperately catching up on sleeping. There will hopefully be another day soon devoted to fan-gatherings as opposed to familial duties. ^-^ )
It was very surreal to be on the Greyhound heading out to Toronto. I didn’t realize it until I settled down into my seat and saw the darkened city lights out the window, but I have not done that commute for over a decade. A decade.
Feel old yet? I do.
At least the trip was akin to getting back on a bicycle. I knew all the stops the bus would make along the way, and as expected I passed out 5 minutes into the ride, not waking up until we were in downtown Toronto. A lot of time may have elapsed, but my body still remembers my favourite bus-riding pastime.
All this brings us to my grandfather’s place in Oshawa. My aunt Kathy and uncle JP were already there, and Margaret stopped by later on in the morning. I helped out wherever I could, lugging some of the heavier items out into the garage. And the three of us strongmen managed to wrestle the heavier-than-it-looked entertainment cabinet out of the living room, so I’m glad I could make it down.
Now one of the things I took advantage of being there was laying claim to a few things that caught my eye: some plates, a few mementos from my childhood, a blanket or two. Towards the end of our visit, I also noticed a really nice leather coat in the front entry closet. This surprised me, since I had assumed most if not all of Grandpa’s coats had either been already claimed or donated to charity. I asked Kathy about it, and she said she wasn’t sure about the coat, but I could try it on to see how it fit. (I was close to Grandpa’s physical build.)
I tried on the coat and found it to be a marvelous fit. Even with the sleeves a little shorter than I’d have liked, it was a good jacket and I hoped that no one else had already laid dibs on it. So, coat still on me, I walked into the living room and asked, “Say, this is a great coat! I’d love to have it if no one else has claimed it.”
After a moment’s pause, Margaret looked right at me and said with a hint of surprise and disbelief in her voice, “That’s my jacket!”
Um…oops? In an attempt to dispel the sudden awkwardness of the moment, I immediately flashed her a sincere smile and said, “It really is a nice coat.”
To which Margaret retorted, “I also have a bright red jacket. Do you want to try that on too?”
Gary, Kathy and JP couldn’t say anything; they were laughing too hard.
So there you have it: after months of apparent quiet, Chaos-no-Baka returns in full, infamous glory! I have a suspicion that I won’t be living down that particular moment for quite a while. But with any luck, I can properly distract you from giggling at my stupidity with this link:
www.pmsbuddy.com (Which tells me that today is a low-level PMS threat day.)
Labels: Chaos no Baka and the leather coat of embarrassment
posted by Phillip at 7:08 AM
