F 1 D 0 -- 02 03 03 at 12 30


I had the most amazing couple of
days with my dad. Amazing. 

Joyous. With feeling. Genuine and

I've been taking things from Toronto
to Thunder Bay by Greyhound. This is
a financially efficient way to move.


Because they permit four parcels. 


They permit four parcels of up to 60 lbs

In practice?

If I load them, or at least, load the 
heaviest of them, then they look the
other way about the weight limitation.

What did I do?

Oh, I got me four gunny sacks. They are
like duffel bags, except bigger. Taller.

Ann made a couple of them for me, as I had
two already. One from my dad, one from a trip
where I saw it in an Army Surplus store. 

These are about six feet tall, and big
enough for santa claus to sleep comfortably
within. They have a draw string to close them
up. Ann made mine out of shiny jacket fabric,
strong stuff!

So I've been filling these up, and you know,
something that is six feet tall, and as big
around as Santa, can weigh a lot more than one
hundred pounds. In fact, it can weigh around
400 lbs, if I'm not careful.  I cannot even
DRAG something over 200 lbs, so I kept them
to about 150.

Moving this way has saved me a lot of money,
and provided me with good time to get closer
to Ann, and to make the time away feel better.

It has not been good at helping me take furniture,
appliances, or be organized, really. I just go 
into a room, and throw things into the sack
until it is full.

So Here I Am, a couple of days before end of
the month.

I decided that I'd stay as late in the home
as I needed to, within reason. My own room 
mates stayed weeks beyond welcome, and I
could do nothing at all about them. I figured
an extra week would do wonders for me, and 
what could my landlord do.

I was avoiding him, and just telling him by
email "I'm running late" and that "I really
needed extra time."

I keep feeling sorry for people. I felt sorry
for my landlord, because he said he was concerned
about losing his home, and wanted to insure it
as Vacant to save some cash. But to do that, I
could no longer be actually living there. 

I needed the time, but I also didn't want him to
lose his place over my disorganization.

All of a sudden, I'm rushing to move by the end
of the month.

I may be 45, but Dad still came to the rescue.

I've got to recreate the days of the week. Today
is Sunday, yesterday was Saturday, I arrived on
Friday night at 1030pm, so I boarded the bus on
Thursday night at 120am. 

So this story begins Wednesday at noon.

My dad was going to restore the furnace. You see,
Samier, when I was away, "fixed the furnace". He
did this by using a fan motor meant to be connected,
and pushed it near. Using only gravity, a book shelf,
and my electronic synthesizer stand, he jury rigged
this motor so it worked the fan inside. How Clever!

Dad was going to Un Jury Rig the contraption, and
simply connect the original fan motor. It worked.
It just had a bad starter, so that when it was stopped
(say for a power failure) you had to let it cool.
Once cool, you turned on the system, and gave the
fan belt a pull. Yes, we keep the fan going 24 hours
a day, since it doesn't start well.

In this way I'd get my keyboard stand back, and 
all would be well.

But I felt that being rushed out of the house meant
I wanted my dad to help me with things that would
benefit ME, me personally, not the landlord.

So instead, we worked together on disassembling all
of the wooden shelving. I had a lot of that stuff,
and managed to leave the disassembly of it until
the penultimate day. (is that the right word? The
day before the last day, Penultimate Day?)

I went to the dance on Tuesday Night, for English.

That was important. You see, it was my last opportunity
to dance English for a while. But it was also a chance
for everyone to make a goodbye time for me. That was
nice.  The other dancers had a conference, and decided
that the flavour of choice was Chocolate. Uh, Chocolate

After a good evening of dance, and calling, and playing
music, I went to Tom and Cindy's where I borrowed their
battery operated Black and Decker screw driver. Yes, I
own one, but I didn't want that accidentally left behind,
so I moved it up north already.  

Cindy was glad to hang out.  Sad I was going.

Tom wished I had more time. He wants and needs my
major appliances, but getting a driver and a rental
truck is hard for him.  I just didn't have the time
for me, let alone for him and Cindy. Sorry you two.

I picked up the stuff, and rushed back, thinking I'd
get a lot done before morning. 

Nope. I even did a coffee at the Coffee Time donut
place at Sheppard and Vic Park. That didn't help.
I fell asleep in a seated position. Nobody got mad
at me.

At 3am, I went home, and tried for about 5 minutes
to motivate myself to use the freshly borrowed screw
driver. I woke in the morning, fully dressed, holding
the thing at the ready.

This is the morning my dad came over and the two
of us together took these shelves apart. He agreed
to store them in the back yard for me. Yay!

I was going to leave behind this wonderful metal
shelf thing. Heavy duty, stainless steel, designed
for real restaurant use. In a commercial environment,
I'm certain that they wash thing thing down by spraying
it with Break Up or some other professional degreaser.

I wanted to ensure I had all of my milk crates (stop
laughing!) and my foam mattress (I said stop laughing!).

I love my bed, and it is made of high density foam
for people with back issues. I hand picked it from
hundreds of densities. The store staff helped me out.
They have samples, with standard numbers.

At the factory, they just want to know 
density code

They use that information to make a weight, and charge
accordingly. I paid 72.00 for that, and got exactly what
I needed. Eight inches high, a King Size square. I wish
I remembered the code. 5220 ? It was dense, but not so 
firm that it didn't give (they advise me against that,
but some people do as they please, and come back the
next week to buy what they should have done in the first

Ann told me that getting foam such as this was near to
impossible, and that I'd best find a way to store it.

I used to sleep on the floor, at 42 Byng Avenue, with 
this thing. The problem is that it accumulates my own
moisture, and goes strange. So I took it out to the
back yard (it is really light), and dried it out. That
took a couple of days during the summer. E-a-s-y.

Since that summer day, I've only slept on it by 
laying it across 36 milk crates, inverted.

This has been the most comfortable bed I've
ever slept in. Ever.

It was These milk crates and foam that my father
and I worked at taking to Nathan's place.

The shelving all made it, including some stuff I
wasn't planning on taking. One was a wooden shelf
system that was left by the previous tenants. It
had a certain width I'd not seen before. It seemed
to be best for growing things in standard sized
bins. It was full of dead plants when we moved
in, and I dispatched them. It was fine for holding
boxen with stuff.

The mice certainly loved any box I put there.

Even if they could not eat the contents, they'd
come and play, and of course use the latrine there.

That is my main complaint with wild mice is their
natural inclination to turn each of their favourite
places into a latrine. 

They also like to bite things. They like the foil
mylar stuff that many chocolate single serve bars
come in.  They ate each and every Reeses wafer bar
I forgot to freeze or refrigerate. If I hid them 
in a drawer which looked that it could be mouse
secure, they proved the drawer was only 90% secure.
Sigh. They'd get into my garbage when I ate
one of these Reeses things, and discarded the
wrapper. Sigh again.

So the shelving wasn't well used when I lived
on Vic Park. It attracted mice, and that bothered
me, even when it was only canned goods getting
mouse attention.

Dad took that apart for me, and it took no 
space at all! It will be nice up here.

Remember that metal shelving? It was a real
challenge to disassemble. It had no screws, no
connectors, no nothing. 

I had a hammer, and we tried hitting it apart.
It moved! But would not come apart until we
got the secret: we had to hit the shelves so
they were twisted in relation to the side legs.
Then they just fell away! Wonderful. 

It was during the travel, not the work of disassembly
that Dad and I could talk of adventures.

He was almost jealous that he didn't have any

He's had work. Lots of that. 

He owned a hardware store in Toronto for many years,
and he figured it was a wonderful business opportunity.

You see, the building was his, I think.

He rented out the two apartments above the store, and
the rent from that paid for the entire building. Cool!
The store itself didn't have to be a great success.

Well, after a chat with his accountant, he realized
all differently.

For us kids, we thought nothing of living on 50.00 a week.
Doesn't everyone? But this didn't happen all so long ago
so that wasn't the average income of the time. 

He worked to close the store, and move on to a better
career. Most of them entailed lots of work from him,
and low pay, and less respect. Remember he had the
whole store to himself, and while it didn't make mega
bucks, it did make money, and did so reliably for years.
So he could tell when he was getting mismanaged. Common,
true. But still, nobody likes being told to go left, when
going right is how to do the job.

But we talked about my adventures, and all of the times
over the years I've picked up and done something new. 
So new, so big, that it meant leaving a lot behind.

It was such talk that moved him to think that he should
consider travel. Soon. Mom and him are of reasonable 
health compared to Aunts and Uncles in the family. He
figures he and mom should do something while they still
can do it.  I concur.

This move up north, all of the dancing, and so much of
what I've done over the years has been a stretch for me,
or a big deal emotionally.  I like the experience.

I've not settled in yet up here, and I've heard 
Beethoven twice in a live concert. Ask me about
it, so I can write the details for you.

That's all I know.