I'm home now, and I should be cleaning. Having been gone for 51 days, there is a film covering my domicile and it's making my skin crawl. The constable, who was here for the majority of the time, did what he could to keep up while he was working shifts, but my being the primary caretaker of just about everything in this house, he's bound to miss the details that only my trained eye would catch. Like the fact that the upstairs toilet was orange. I can see how that would be easy to miss.
We had planned on heading to Ontario in May anyway for our friends wedding, and then with my unexpected early departure, I decided just to stay from the end of March until our scheduled return on the 19th. 51 days is a long time to be away from home. So long in fact that I started to forget what it was like to live here and had come to accept that I now lived back in Ontario. My perpetually under construction little hovel felt like a fantasy. And the transitions back and forth take a little getting used to. Here are some random thoughts on the matter;
Driving in Ontario is immensely satisfying. I can go very very fast and no one cares. I can be rude and cut people off, and no one cares. I can yell and scream and curse in my car, and it goes virtually unnoticed. Pedestrians have to look out for me. And I have more than one option for getting somewhere. Getting rid of my Ontario driver rage is very difficult when returning to Nova Scotia. It's been over three years now, and I still haven't totally shaken it.
There is a lot of shopping to be done back in ON. Grief and retail therapy go hand in hand.
The humidity back home, now that my system has become acclimated to the Atlantic weather, is overwhelming. And it was only April for goodness sake.
It's nice and quiet here.
As much as I'd like to believe that my stuff isn't hugely important to me, I've been greatly comforted by being surrounded by it again.
I don't care how much you make fun of me, I really really love driving my mini-van.
It was really nice and felt somewhat luxurious to smell the chlorine from the treated water coming out of the tap, and not really have to worry whether I'm using too much cuz I'm constantly thinking about the well.
Gas at one gas station in my hometown was as low as 87.5 and never got over a dollar the entire time I was there. And still people complained.
I bought a tray of chicken breasts for a little over $5.00. Not on sale.
I had peameal bacon. Try as I might, I cannot find it in town here.
There are no exotic yarn stores in or around my hometown. Anywhere. That being said, I did find four balls of mohair at Value Village and my bff gave me the Rowan she
scored there as well. Thus, I was gone so long I began to accumulate another yarn stash.
I was Hank-free for well over a month. And it was good.
Don't get me wrong, I love the guy. Just that he's got some issues, and his issues bring out my issues and it's just a stress fest most of the time. And he's friggin' gigantic. The constable dropped little A and I off from the airport the other night and went right back out to the kennel to pick up the big galoot. When I saw him again for the first time, I really and truly had forgotten how big he is. Might have more to do with the fact that my in-laws (with whom A and I were staying) have a Jack Russell that is 15 lbs., if that. Hank's head weighs fifteen pounds. He's just this solid wall of fur and fluff and need that follows me around all day and ruins my flooring. And he smells like the kennel. But I'm glad to see him. I'm hoping we can figure out how to get out for some more walks together, just he and I, now that the weather is nice.
I did knit while I was gone. As soon as I'm settled and organized, I'll likely start posting about that as well. Just thought I would poke my head out and say hi for now.
Until later...
