Honestly, if I were asked “What’d you do today?” I believe I would be pressed to respond either promptly or substantively. The truth is that, since I abruptly awoke late this morning after an exceedingly restful overnight sleep, I have jumped from one event to the other. The reason in particular for my lack of particularity about what I have done is that I have addressed a number of things which I hadn’t imagined having to do.
It began in the basement as I am learning both unremarkably and remarkably to confess so much of my life at 225 Johanna Street now transpires. As I started my routine tricycle ride about the newly polished floor of the garage (grâce à His Lordship Jeff) I was prompted to make way for an automobile entering the garage. I could tell instinctively by the sound of the vehicle that the driver was uncertain.
It turns out that the driver (Sandra) was returning from a familial visit to Nunavut during which time she had been asked by the Property Manager Kim to change parking spots. This naturally explained the perceived reluctance. I echo the disturbance caused when first relocating to a new parking spot. They all look so much alike; and the added distortion of sitting in an automobile to identify the spot is no helpful accommodation. When at last the automobile was correctly stationed, I interrupted my Olympian endeavours to say hello to the latest correspondent. The moment I heard her family name I bowed and acknowledged my presence amidst Almonte royalty. Her Ladyship graciously received me. Then, in keeping with the prescribed behaviour of true local breeding, we instantly fell into a confab about people we knew in common including those long departed. Though it is perhaps a small compliment to say so, it helps in these conversational matters to have numerous decades to one’s credit. The epitome of allegiance among those whom we mentioned was the late Raymond Algernon Jamieson, QC who Her Ladyship confirmed had acted as solicitor for the family. And of course she knew the late Bill Bellamy (colloquially known as the “Mayor of Clayton”). I should in fairness interrupt this monologue to disclose that the equally thriving feature of Her Ladyship’s celebrity is that she previously lived on a road which bore her own family name. This of course is an incomparable dignity for those of us living in the country. It immediately bespeaks the unfathomable notoriety and prestige of the family.
Invigorated as I was by this inestimable social encounter, it was almost by rote (or enforceable duty) that I sat upon the black plastic chairs I so adore on the balcony and stared ceremoniously into the dazzling sun while it glistened brilliantly upon the flowing river water and duly immersed me in its tranquility and pacific commotion. It wasn’t long before, gilded by my recent exercise, I was lost in that ethereal world of reverie and reminiscence.
When I succeeded to revive myself from this inutility I prepared myself for the ritual drive to the city and back. It could not have been a more delightful day to have done so! The sky was a dome of blue. When I redirected onto the gas station I filled with Ultra gasoline (the latest additive) and turned from there to the nearest car wash (the Touchless bay was lined up with cars already).
Mistakenly I presumed upon my return home into the setting sun that it might have heralded the beginning of a quieter afternoon. Instead I launched into the fabrication of yet another blog. My frequency of attempts at this unique preoccupation has seemingly not enhanced my ability. But neither has it diminished the amusement of attempting to do so. At last – as the dinner hour approached – I fulfilled the last chapter of necessity and retired formally from the kitchen.