Woman's Work

           

            On the Tuesday morning of July 19th, a woman with a walker was crossing the street but she was halfway across when the light changed, so she turned around and walked back.

            That evening I was on my way out to Donlands and Danforth and I passed a middle-aged man in a straw fedora. I stopped for the light at Pape and he caught up, saying to me in a Jamaican accent that I’d been going pretty fast. Then he added that he only had one speed on his bike. I said, “Well then, you’re probably doing better than me!” Of course I didn’t know whether or not I’d be faster than him with an equal bike, but I thought I’d be generous. He nodded in agreement and said in a good natured tone, “All you got to do is click twice and you catch up with me!” He jumped the light and got ahead briefly. I passed him again, but stopped at Donlands to cross once the light had changed. He passed by, calling out, “Alright! You reached your destination!”

            There’s a place called “Sakawa Coffee”. It sounds like someone is saying, “Suck our coffee!” with a speech impediment.

There is also a hair salon with a good name: “Bang”.

I rode to Plains Road and across to Greenwood.

On my way home I stopped at a bank machine to take out twenty dollars. That meant an overdraft of seven dollars, but I needed paper towels and toilet paper. When I stopped to get those things I also bought bananas, grapes and a chicken.

I watched two episodes of The Honeymooners. The outstanding one was “A Woman’s Work Is Never Done”, in which Ralph complained that Alice didn’t wash his bowling shirt or mend his socks. She explained that she had been having so much fun cleaning the apartment, shopping and cooking that she just couldn’t be bothered to weigh herself down with the drudgery of cleaning his bowling shirt or mending his socks.

            It’s funny, but I don’t come from the reality of fathers working regular shifts while mothers worked constantly. My father was a farmer and so his work was also never done. My mother was only a housewife when she wasn’t teaching school and I recall my father doing a lot of cooking and cleaning.