Horoscope

Tim Stephens is my favourite guy in the horoscope trade. Somehow whatever he writes for my sign somehow fits like a glove and I use this to my advantage when everything seems to go wrong or difficult.

Get everything done before August 23rd, he seemed to say, to a number of different signs. The consequences of not getting them done before the 23rd were not spelled out, but I hastened to finish things in any case. without much success.

My sister, her husband, my nephew and my grand-nephew are supposed to arrive today. I was expecting them around one o’clock but they still haven’t showed up, so I’m profiting to do a little post, here, because I don’t think I will have time afterwards.

So, day before yesterday a kind young painter who takes lessons with Mrs. Stepford next door was coerced into loaning me a bridge table. I’ve only met her once when Mrs. Stepford brought the two students to paint the old Japanese Maple, a wonderfully twisted, graceful tree that provides luscious shade in the front yard.

So the young painter arrives at my door with the folding table saying, “I’ve gotta go. I’ve got to pick up my youngster from daycare. Mrs. Stepford said you needed a table. Just let me have it back when you’re done with it.”

I thanked her for her generosity and thoughtfulness. As soon as she was gone, I phoned Mrs. Stepford.

“What have you been telling her?” I asked suspiciously. I could just imagine Mrs. Stepford pleading that the poor lady next door didn’t even have a table, not explaining that simply my movers had done a no-show. I’d been managing quite well balancing food, computer and coffee cups on various combinations of unpacked (and therefore fairly stable) cardboard boxes.

“You don’t mind, do you, that I asked her to give you a table?” she said somewhat slyly, a grin spreading over her face (I could just see it, over the telephone. I know her that well.)

“Geez, Mrs. S., I don’t even know her and I’m borrowing!. Don’t you know that maxim, “Never a borrower or a lender be”? I don’t want to come across on first impression as someone who it going out soliciting for things when I’ve hardly arrived in the community.”

The upshot was that I had the table and it was exceedingly welcome. I spent the evening moving the computer from its perch on boxes in the kitchen to the front room where I’m expecting to establish an office once the furniture arrives.

Only I’m getting too old for this. I can’t see the ports of entry on the back of the computer and have to feel away which plug goes into which inlet. Last time I did it, I didn’t have sound which wasn’t a biggie for me, except I miss listening to Rachmaninoff as I type away.

Things were not going well, so I just had to see the back of the computer which was now sitting under the card table blocking off all the available light. I got down on the floor with my little one-use flashlight that I got from Canadian tire. (It’s solid state; you can’t replace the battery; and it only cost one dollar. It works like a hot-damn. I got it for mom a year and a half ago and it still works!)

So there I am trying to twist the tower towards me so I can see better, but if I do, it pulls at connections and I”m worried about the fragile wires breaking, so I don’t push that. Instead, I lie down on the floor, full length, wriggle forward until I can get my head inches away from the back panel.

It took me a few minutes to hook the tangle of wires to the back and then I went to get up. Well! I’m getting to old for all this, as I said before. I slowly withdrew my head so I didn’t knock it on the computer and then, full length, wriggled backwards. Oh Lord, nobody take a picture of this, I was thinking. It’s good I live alone! I lifted my head jut shy of the table top and didn’t connect, which was a good thing.

Then I had forgot about those failing knees when I got down here on the floor. I have to get things to lean on to push myself up on.

Oh well, I said to myself. That was a lot of work, maybe I’ll just lie here for a while.

Lucky that the floor is well carpeted with a soft underlay on it. I was warm and toasty and content to recover where I was. I was glad there was no-one to ask me if I was alright. I was actually doing just fine, but it must have looked funny.

Finally I got back onto my haunches, sat for a minute, surveyed what I could lever myself onto – the window sill and a corner of the computer tower – and lifted myself off the carpet.

Mission accomplished. I was feeling Little Red Hennish. I can do it myself!

I sat down and did a game of FreeCell. Yes, the computer worked. The sound was just fine. I got beeps for every error. But the new mouse is not charging up so I’m using it on it’s short leash – its charging cord – with the top of the computer tower as far as it will reach, which means that I rapidly developing carpal tunnel. And this mouse was supposed to be cordless.

I phoned Hugh. He says it should be charged up by now. Just take it back. There’s another chore I didn’t need.

Tuesday morning, I had business to do in Vancouver and went in by car Monday night figuring I could bring in a few more goodies that the new movers won’t need to and I could have two more chairs and a set of nesting tables for my company use as dinner tables. I loaded up the trunk in the evening and added the back seat items early morning, hoping to get to the doctor’s office by nine.
It was about eleven before I arrived out in Richmond at the specialist’s office.

I had to laughm when I arrived at the second floor, looking for unit 206. A the elevator, the first room I saw was 210. Next to it was 203. As I walked along the corridor which was shaped like a square around the elevator shaft, the numbers progressed in no logical fashion – 210, 203, 230, 218, 205, 206, 207, 223, 219 and back to 210. It was obvious that wayfinding was not a priority in this property management’s books.

I only had to sign a consent form and then later I will have to get some lab tests. I’m getting some very minor day surgery done at the end of September. Now I was getting late for the other appointment I had back in Maple Ridge.

I couldn’t leave the parking lot behind the doctor’s office in the direction I wanted to go because of the boulevards which prevent you from crossing the street. I had to go around the block, but when I tried that, I couldn’t turn left onto Westminster Highway going east. I had to go around again and find a main road that would allow me to do that.

Finally I was headed east on Westminster, looking for Number Six Road. I know how to get onto the Delta Surrey connector and I was sure that there was a turn off for New Westminster and from there, a quick drive down Columbia Street going east to the Brunette entry to the Number One Highway.

Only, they are doing construction on the Delta Surrey connector and some of the signs for New Westminster aren’t clear and I ended up in Queensborough Landing, which wasn’t too bad, because I reconnected with the Queensborough Bridge not long after, but it was a diversion. And I was in a hurry.

On Stewardson Way, I found that there were two Mack trucks coming towards me and one beside me, with lots of others before and behind them. I found it unnerving that my rather large car all of a sudden looked like a squashable ant, and there was no where to go. It was too much for me. I had to get off that road and did, at Third Avenue, as fast as I could.

New Westminster is hilly. I put the car in first gear and chugged up the hill. I passed Tenth Street and then noticed that the street numbers were getting smaller. What had started off as a main street had sputtered out into a residential district with traffic calming circles and four way stops at every intersection. When I found Sixth Street, I recognized finally where I was and went down to Royal where I could shoot across to Columbia.

Finally I was on my way to Brunette, Highway one, Mary Hill bypass, Lougheed and Maple Ridge. I arrived only fifteen minutes late for my appointment, but it seemed as if I’d been on the road for hours. When I finished my business, I phoned Mrs. Stepford.

“Can I come for tea?” I asked.

“Of course!”

I sat at her kitchen table exhausted. I put my face in my hands and cut out all the available light and just soaked up the peace of being in a warm and friendly kitchen. With a cup of restorative tea, the nerves of the day seeped out of me.

“I always blame the stars when things don’t go right,” I said to Mrs. Stepford. “It takes the pressure off. I don’t have to blame myself for not doing the right thing. It also means that tomorrow will be a better day. The stars will line up a different way and everything will get back on keel.”

And so here I am on the 23rd. All of those tasks I was supposed to finish are not yet done. I’m waiting for the folks to arrive. It’s just about six o’clock and they should have been here at four.

Tomorrow is another day; may the stars align in another way.

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One Response to “Horoscope”

  1. suburbanlife Says:

    Gad! Kay – i also hate those office buildings with the central elevator shaft and odd office numbering, very disorienting and irritating.
    So you are now supposed to not do anything after the 23rd? Let the young folks take over some of the doing, go swimming and touring with your family and take a load off. You’ll have plenty to do when the movers come with your furniture in early September.
    Didn’t i tell you Maple Ridgers are a friendly and helpful lot? The table was all her idea – i think she has adopted you too as one of her oldies, God bless that young gal. G

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