In accordance with the updated covid protocols, the communal coffee machine and kettle have disappeared from work, leaving us to scramble for a new hot morning beverage source. My solution was to spend $40 on the largest insulated bottle I could find, 1.2L, to tote boiled water from home because I prefer to do all my teabagging at work.
My latest functionality requirements.
My desperation as a habitual tea drinker rivals that of coffee drinkers. At least I thought so until I found out that someone brought their camp stove so that they could heat some water for their Aeropresso in the loading bay. What did upper management think would happen? Or was this Bonnie Henry’s suggestion?
The most important part of Christmas is my least favourite. It’s not Jesus because this Atheist likes him more than spending time with family, either mine or my partner’s. I do have a cold heart (you’ll see in a bit), but it’s because attending these gatherings as the lone deaf person always ends the same. I first had this realization when I bought a flight “home” for Christmas the first year I lived in Calgary, only to realize that my family found it too burdensome to include me. I came into the kitchen on Christmas morning to find that everybody was having breakfast without me.
The next year, I spent it with my then-partner and his family, and it was even worse because I had to act like I was enjoying myself. I could tell my family that they sucked for not including me, but I had to be gracious towards my in-laws no matter what. I was there out of sheer obligation. My former in-laws had mostly been friendly, and there’d always be a family member or two who made a real effort to include me. Still, if the entire family doesn’t try, it’s not worth it for me.
If that doesn’t sound caustic enough to you, when Dad found the missing box of personal Christmas ornaments that I had spent a few years searching for, I told him I didn’t want them anymore.
This was my favourite ornament. Its tongue sticks out when you push the top of its hat. I thought the noose was a nice touch.
I acknowledged that I had more negative memories of Christmastime with the family than not. It sounds cold, but it was the first time I’d ever admitted this to a family member. For years, I faked delight and marveled at the fact that mincemeat tarts didn’t contain meat. I’m so good at pretending I’m enjoying myself that these gatherings have ended with someone saying something along the lines of, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t stay home?”
No!
I prefer to voluntarily alienate myself, so this post is proof that I had a fun Christmas solo!
‘Member VCRs? I owned one up until 2009, which I feel is far longer than most people. I finally gave up on this antiquated technology when I first moved away from Victoria. Now, the story of how I let go of my VCR is more involved than, “I donated it. The End.” It’s more like: “I donated it, then realized that the VHS tape featuring seven-year-old me in an educational video about sexual abuse was still in there, and the tape in its case had been swapped with a vintage porno.” See this post for details.
Andrew and Holly are back in our lives in an abstract sense. Yann and I were standing under the carport behind our building when we watched someone wearing a hi-vis jacket exit the rear of the building next to ours.
Something was off: who leaves from the rear door only to go straight out front? We exit the rear to take out the garbage, get to the car, or smoke. In this instance, we were doing the latter two: smoking whilst leaning against the car.
Moments later, a bright light shone in our face and I jokingly said to Yann, “Oh, it’s a cop.”
