Cats are Weirdos

            Even though we no longer get much sun on the back deck this time of year, on Saturday, September 24th I took advantage of the nice day and did my laundry again in the bathtub. Soon I’ll have to start taking it all to the Laundromat, but this time I thought I’d save money and time. Everything takes a lot longer to dry though out on the shadowy deck.

            The north-south streets were chilly as I headed for my bike ride, reminding me that I won’t be able to go out in shorts and a tank top much longer and that I should start carrying a long sleeved shirt in my backpack. I was fairly comfortable once I was in the sun, but I definitely felt motivated to move to maintain heat.

            On the Bloor bike lane, a man stepped out ahead of me and was casually walking at a very long angle. Firmly but without irritation I called, “Watch out behind you!” He exclaimed, “Oh! Sorry!” and did a little dance forward out of my way.

            At Bay Street there was a four or five piece jazz band playing, with drums, bass and a couple of saxophone players.

            The east end of the Bloor Viaduct smelled like oil. Maybe there had been an accident earlier.

            I rode up Broadview to O’Connor and then across to Coxwell, where I went north to explore the handful of residential streets with mostly upper middle class houses, just north of O’Connor.

            I stopped at the Starbucks in Old East York Village. Both washrooms were occupied, so I had to wait. I guess I was distracted looking at the products they have on display, like gourmet beef jerky of all things, that I didn’t notice one of the people leave the washroom. Another guy came in and walked right past me to open the washroom door that was locked when I tried it. If I’d walked in I would have noticed that someone else, like me was waiting, but maybe this guy was more unaware than inconsiderate.

            The jazz band was still there when I got back to Bay Street. They were playing Michael Jackson’s “Billy Jean”.

            My favourite cat, Amarillo has been gone too long for me to expect him to return. All I have left is Jonquil, who in the last week has started to behave strangely for her. While most of her life she has desperately clung to the apartment, except when she’s sure the door is open, now she goes outside and stays there all night long. Sometimes I go out back and see her just sitting there and staring like an old woman on a porch. She usually just comes in to eat, but when she does she stands outside the open apartment door for a while and cries as if it’s closed. When she does stay in the apartment for a while she goes to sit in odd places, like the bathtub.