On Friday at around midday I wanted to take a shower but the luffa back scrubber that I think my daughter’s mother gave us almost twenty years ago has gotten too loose to use. The luffa became aloof from the stick at least a year ago and for a lot longer it’s been looking ugly, torn, soiled and rotten. For a while I was able to impale one of its cavities with the stick and still use it but the thought of struggling with that disgusting thing today was too much. So I ventured over to the Dollarama in hopes of finding another one but they don’t have them. I went to Fullworth and they had a frilly synthetic back scrubber with a plastic handle but that’s not what I wanted. I walked two blocks west of Jameson to Shoppers Drug Mart but they didn’t have them and suggested I try the Dolllarama. I went to the Vina Pharmacy and they suggested Guardian Drugs. I tend to avoid Guardian because it’s a Rexall store, which I boycott because of a hassle that company gave me several years ago, but I’d broken the boycott out of necessity in the past and did so again this time. They had two luffa’s on sticks. One looked of better quality than the other though they were the same price at $11.99 before tax, so I took the better one. It’s flat on the stick but when it gets wet it puffs out fat and round. I’d never noticed the one we’d had do that so maybe it hadn’t been a real luffa.
A
couple of days ago my neighbour, Benji pointed out to me that there’s suddenly
a cable running from the box outside Caesar’s place at the back of the building
and running across the fire escape to the apartment on the other side. He
thinks that because it doesn’t look like a professional job that the guy in
number 6 is stealing cable and Caesar thinks the same. But it could be from a
legitimate company that hires a sloppy contractor to do the installations.
For the last week
or so there’s been a bench outside the donut shop downstairs. I’m always glad
to see benches on the sidewalk in Parkdale. There used to be a lot more like
the one I used to sit on and write poetry in the late 80s and early 90s in
front of the parking lot between what’s now the Dollarama and 1313 Queen. A few
months ago they put a bench on the south side of Queen where Lansdowne ends but
apparently it got destroyed when a turning truck hit it. Now the week-old bench
in front of Coffee Time is lying on its back with traffic cones fitted onto its
front legs.
I took a bike ride
in the late afternoon. On Bloor Street between Sherbourne and the Bloor Viaduct
there is often a long line of cyclists trying to get ahead of everyone else.
The faster cyclists can only pass if there’s enough space between the cyclist
ahead and the car on their left. I had moved out to the left to see if I could
pass the woman ahead of me but there was no room so I started to move back to
the right but suddenly there was another bike there and the rider shouted,
"Hey! What are you doing! Either pass or don’t pass! Make up your mind!”
“I have to deal with the cars too, you know!” I pulled ahead and shouted back,
"You've got to learn how to relax!" I would never come up beside
someone that is tentatively about to pass another cyclist unless there was room
on their left to pass them while they are passing someone else. It’s not safe
to leave another cyclist out on the left if cars are nearby. Moving in on the
right just in case a cyclist is going to pass someone is like sliding into bed
with someone while they are discussing a possible breakup with someone else.
Some cyclists seem to let their shadows do the driving.
I rode up
Birchmount north of St Clair and one street north of Foxridge, thinking that
I’d find a street with southern streets that lead back down to Foxridge but the
next street, Chelwood was on the other side of some railway tracks and so there
were no southbound streets. Chelwood turned into Woodfern and then went north,
west and south until I was back at Birchmount. I found out later that there are
streets between Fernridge and the tracks, so I’ll have to explore them next
time.
I had a chicken
leg for dinner and watched an episode of Mike Hammer, Private Eye. In this
story Hammer and his friend, police captain Skip Gleason were on their way up
to the Adirondacks for a fishing trip but decided for some stupid reason to
have a few beers at Lou’s Bar first, I guess because the police like to drink
and drive. In the bar a news report comes on about a bank robbery in which an
attractive woman flashes the teller while an armed gang takes the money and one
trigger-happy maniac among them shoots two of the guards. Suddenly someone
shoots out the TV at the bar and the bank robbers happen to be there waiting
for their member that has the money. I don't know why a gang would rob a bank
and then meet in a bar afterwards. At least one of them must have a home that’s
less conspicuous. So after the TV is shot out they begin shooting up the bar,
again stupidly because gunshots can be heard on the street. Neither Hammer nor
Skip have their guns with them. The owner has a shotgun under the bar but as
soon as he tries to fire he is badly wounded. Hammer takes Skip's ID and puts
it on the bartender so the gang doesn’t find out that he's a cop. Every single
one of the crooks seems crazy, including their leader, but Hammer uses some
effective skills to calm him down. These shows always portray gangs of crooks
in these types of situations as always playing against each other while the
“good guys” are always looking out for one another’s welfare and thinking
calmly. Chances are the bad guys wouldn't be in a gang if they didn't get along
with one another as well as cops do. But in this story the gang begins arguing
and attacking each other. Meanwhile Skip’s son Jackie, who is a rookie cop,
sneaks in through the ventilation system to attempt a rescue. He is badly
wounded but his intervention is enough of a distraction to allow Hammer and
Skip to overpower two members of the gang and take their guns. In the shootout,
Skip is wounded but Hammer manages to take out the rest of the gang.
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