Buying a New Phone is not for Sissies

 

So here’s the thing – for some time now it’s been clear that my current phone of about 4 years is lurching towards its cellular Valhalla. I have to clear the cache hourly, and there is a huge stutter involved in simply going from one function to another. It’s becoming ridiculous even for me and I will put up with a lot in order to avoid replacing my phone.  But recently, even an overnight charge fades away quickly so I know in my heart it’s time.

All this sounds a bit melodramatic, doesn’t it, and even a bit princess-like, (Oh-poor-me-must-I-really-have-to-bother-myself-getting-a-new-cell-phone!) but not only do I loathe the process and how it makes me feel (explanation of this to follow) I am also haunted by the environmental impact (which you can see here)

As a result, that whole procrastination thing is a snap!

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On Guard!

 

The temperature outside has started to sharpen a little this week, just chilly enough to remind us what is coming. But unlike many (normal) people who are excited to welcome pumpkin-spice latte season or to enjoy the dramatic colours of the changing leaves, I find myself remembering the epic thrill of being selected as not only the class “monitor” but also, a school Crossing Guard …

I know what you’re thinking and you’re right.

These were heady times, indeed.

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Send in the Clowns … or, Maybe Not

 

Every year from about the age of 10, my father presented me with tickets that would admit myself and a friend to the Shriner’s Circus, an extravaganza that promised to thrill and delight with live animal acts galore and clowns whose snowy foreheads wrinkled like accordion pleats. I sensed how proud my dad was to be able to pass these tickets along and knew I should be grateful. (There was also an element of fear involved since he would have been livid if I’d refused to go since that would be “showing him up.”) But truly, I hated every part of the experience especially the animals dressed in humiliating, ill-fitting outfits. The crowd would cheer as a “bear in a frock” balanced on a ball or an elephant wearily rose up onto its hind legs or a twitchy monkey repeatedly tipped his hat. But I pictured all of these animals after the show, miserably shivering in the darkness of their cages, far away from family and natural habitat while we narrow-minded spectators trampled striped, flattened popcorn boxes on greasy-grey floors to exit the building quickly so we could begin thoughts of our next meal.

(I may or may not have been heavily influenced by ‘Dumbo’ here … )

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Old Yeller

 

I pride myself on being a decisive person but because I am also a frugal one, I cannot abide expensive mistakes. As I embark on another painting adventure (a bathroom, this time) I do not want to get the colour wrong particularly when I’ll be using a top price paint like Benjamin Moore. (Careful readers may recall my previous, joyous renovation recounted here not long ago).

I was especially rattled because this particular bathroom has remained a poisonous Cough Drop Yellow for many years instead of the pale Shortbread I had in mind. But I just couldn’t face the stress of tackling it again. (And take note, this heinous colour was from a cheap and unpleasant paint store that just happened to be closer. Never again).

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The Accordion at my House

Obviously not me …

When I was about 8 years old, a salesman knocked on our door (yes, this actually used to happen!) and I galloped excitedly to be the one who answered.  As the door opened, I saw a man so good looking, I gaped openly. With his dark, slicked back hair (think: Don Draper selling accordions) and a lanky, cool confidence he made the accordion slung across his shoulder seem like the piano’s bad-ass, edgier cousin.

And, he politely looked around the door for my mother and gestured because he wanted to talk to me, particularly!

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