I pay to share my feelings online.

Right as my WordPress subscription auto-renewed, I took a two-week hiatus. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? Now that you’ve renewed your fondness for me, here’s a gif I made when I meant to write a post two weeks ago:

“Muhahaha, this house gives out Kerr’s molasses candy.”

Remember the Easter Decoration neighbours?

Resurrection’s a gas.

They don’t limit themselves to Christian holidays. Here’s their Pagan setup:

Death is so whimsical.

At least that was it before everything blew onto the next-door neighbour’s front yard after Sunday night’s windstorm. The animatronic evil clown has relocated elsewhere on neighbour’s property, likely due to human rather than meteorological rearrangement. However, the animatronic clown neighbour does not belong to the Easter Decoration people. They’re the neighbour who has a small shrub dressed in denim in their garden:

My neighbours not only have money for holiday decorations but also money for dressing their shrub in denim.

The number of people in Victoria who have storage space for seasonal decorations floors me. I don’t even have enough storage space for my camping gear, so they’re packed inside a 45 L cooler that I keep in the kitchen! I’m unsure if I’ll still have this space on Feb 1st, as my landlord sent me an ominous text message last night saying that she needed to talk to me about what will happen in three months.

She let the suspense build for a further fifteen minutes before telling me that she would finish dinner before continuing the conversation. Was she going to put me in charge of decorating their property for Valentine’s Day 2022?

Wait, my rent is going up, isn’t it?

Wait… what if I’m being evicted?

An hour passed: maybe they were having crab for dinner? That takes a long time to eat.

It’s been more than 24 hours.

Either she’s still slowly sucking the meat out of the tips, or she’s forgotten about me.

When I told Zoée what was happening, she pointed out the Seinfeldesque quality of the situation. It really is. Next month, Zoée and I will be sitting in a diner somewhere in Vancouver doing this:

Zoée and I following an hour-long dialogue of disillusionment.

I will be leaving the island for the first time in more than a year. I convinced myself that it’d be fun to spend the end of November on the mainland when the weather is subpar and the people depressed.

So far, I’m looking the most forward to the flight home as I’ll be travelling by a sea plane. I had a Seinfeldesque experience on my last flight with Harbour Air: the plane was full, so I didn’t get a window seat. The window seat haver I ended up sitting next to spent the entire flight whine-texting some guy. My inner George was exasperatedly going, “WHY DID YOU TAKE THE WINDOW SEAT IF YOU WEREN’T GOING TO LOOK OUT OF THE WINDOW?”

I’d have asked her to switch, but because it’s a 19-seat plane that flies at an altitude of approx. 3,000m, you’re not supposed to get out of your seat at all. Instead, I spent the entire flight reading her insipid phone conversation. I don’t remember what it was about, just that I’m still salty about the situation three years later.

I’m still exploring methods to get to the mainland. I could take a helicopter! I could be known as that badass who spent a 30-minute helicopter ride without ear protection. Taking the ferry is another option, but it’s not a desirable one.

Back on the subject of evil clowns and diabolical landlords: the reason the landlord and I started texting was that I told her I wouldn’t be home for the next two weeks. I did this so that they wouldn’t get concerned about the lack of spooky noises at night.

I’ve been reunited with my cats while Yann gets his fill of quality cheese and pain au chocolat in Montréal. As I have access to a sewing machine while I stay at his place, I’ve decided to sew myself a Halloween costume.

Here’s Enfoiré being unhelpful:

To be fair, I was trying to create a crease and this is mildly helpful.

Sadly, I realized after buying the fabric that I won’t be working on Halloween. I sure as hell won’t be partying. So, I’ll probably simply wander downtown seeking knowing smirks from people who recognize my costume.

Can you guess what I’m making? People who already know are disqualified. That includes Zoée.

Such is life.

One thought on “I pay to share my feelings online.

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