I cycled to work. It’s now dark at 07:30, the sun disinclined to rise. The Bixie bike rack has moved back across Bloor St, to the end of my street. I have no idea why. Suits me; it’s easier to get to. I hope I don’t get hit by a car now that visibility is poorer.
Work was good; supervising me in MR was my colleague from last year’s fellowship, who’s now working as locum staff. I had to show her what’s changed in the last three months since she left and returned. It was Christina’s last day in MR, which was sad as we work well as a team. I hope the next resident is as keen on shared coffee runs.
I got a headache at lunch time, which was frustrating. I did shoulders and legs at the gym before work this morning. We had plans for tonight. I pushed through. Straight after work I walked South down University Ave and caught a streetcar West along Queen St; I needed to go past Dufferin St to get to Made You Look, as our rings were ready for collection. I was excited and couldn’t wait until the weekend, when we have time planned for errands.
The same friendly and professional woman was on the floor, and buzzed me in. Looks like the neighbourhood gets a bit rough at dusk; they lock the door. “What was your name again?” she asked. She fished out a plastic bag from behind the counter and presented me with my ring. It was quite different to what I’d expected but, I reasoned, it was hand-made and perhaps the display model was the theme and the designer just made what they felt inspired to create with the metal in front of her. I tried it on. It fit. I was a bit disappointed because I did really like the design I’d actually requested. I wasn’t going to make a fuss but then considered that I’d be expected to actually wear a wedding ring indefinitely so I asked, “Why does it look so different to the one that I tried on?” The saleswoman faltered. She checked my order: Summit. She walked over to the display case and pulled out the Summit, and the Mountain Range rings, the latter being the ring that had been made for me by mistake. She was mortified. I was relieved. It wasn’t my mistake. Apologies were made, the designer was called, the wedding is in 12 days, there were gasps (not by me, I tried not to laugh at the farce). I had always liked the opening scene to Four Weddings and a Funeral but never expected I’d need to find some plastic stand-in rings for my own wedding. That would be golden.
I caught the streetcar back East to the subway. It was an assault of smells. I was glad when I could finally disembark.
Tonight we saw Boy With Tape on His Face. It was delightful. A slick non-verbal physical theatre performance with clowning, miming, music and a lot of audience involvement. I liked it. We ate food after, at Spring Rolls on Yonge St.