Kiwi and I had stepped into the suite for the first time, and gave each other a sideways look that was of mutual appraisal. We both loved the space from the moment we walked under the Mexican plaster ceilings. The masonry wall that greeted us with a fireplace and large hearth, the bar that separated the kitchen from the living space, the small raised area that I immediately hoped to put my office in...
But I am getting ahead of myself.
July 1st, Canada Day, Kiwi got the day off work. My mother and I had spent nearly the entire day previous packing and moving my clothes and kitchen, stacking boxes and boxes of stuff into the back of my dad's pickup. I was sweating, panting, my arms had never ached so much. Another sore reminder of how out-of-shape I am. Our hard work paid off, by having nearly moved half our house in one giant load. With scrapes and bruises to show for it (one large scrape in particular on my mother's behalf, was earned by a hilariously slow fall on the sidewalk beside our house, as she tried to protect our coffee table from hitting the ground). Later that evening, Kiwi and I already having the keys to the new suite, made another two loads with my hatchback. We went to bed that night, I nervous for the events to come the next morning.
At 7:30 my brother arrived and took me to pick up the 1 ton truck I had rented for 4 hours. I have never in my life driven such a large vehicle. I have had my fair share of experiences in different automotives, but nothing of this caliber. After the associate had backed out the truck, I was told to hop in and check the kilometers and gas level. With nothing more than a quick overview of the truck's features, I was sent on my way, alone; my brother having already gone to await my arrival and assist me with backing up the leviathan that was the 1 ton truck.
For the size of the truck, you'd never know it. Well, maybe on turns (as I found out on the first one I took overtaking the sidewalk a bit) but I was enjoying my otherwise smooth trip back to my house. Avoiding the quickest route that involved a giant hill (where a cement truck had lost control of it's brakes a few months previous) I took the long route and arrived unscathed and giddy at my accomplishment.
Kiwi and his friend Arsh, were more than amazing. Moving all the heavy and awkward pieces of furniture, my brother and I were left with organizing and stabilizing everything inside the beast. With less than half the truck bed full, I realised that a 1 ton truck probably wasn't necessary afterall. Not sure what the alternative would have been, though.
Another trip in the bouncy cab of the truck to our new suite, the narrow street offered little assistance with reversing into a small driveway. As I was pulling the nose of the truck up just past the rear of a gray car, a man walked into my view (our new neighbour and owner of said car) and asked me (as I was reversing) if I was new to the neighbourhood. "Yes," I replied hastily, "Welcome to the neighbourhood!" his thick accent cooed back, "Oh! Thank you!" as I cranked the wheel tight and shimmied past his car.
Kiwi and Arsh were left alone as my brother had other matters to attend to, and we finished the move in record time. It took them no time to move the rest of the furniture into the suite already brimming with stuff. We locked up and I set off to return the truck.
Arsh and Kiwi walked down to the local restaurant, where we were going to treat Arsh to lunch to thank him for all his fantastic work. I took the truck for one last spin down to the rental office. I returned the truck with an hour to spare, and the girl working there praised me for doing so. She did a quick sweep of the truck, read the kilometers and stated with fondness that she was not going to charge me for the gas as we had traveled a very short distance and I had been so punctual. I beamed with pride.
Now, without my brother's assistance I was left stranded at the office. The girl working there told me there was a bus that could take me to meet up with Kiwi and Arsh, and it was only a 2 minute walk down the street. The 157, she said. So off I set. A ways down the road, I saw a bus speed past me with the number 159. Oh, well that can't be my bus I thought and trudged down to the bus stop. The sign above me read that there were only two buses that stopped here: the 158 and the 159. I thought maybe the 157 must make a turn farther up the street, so it wouldn't stop at this one. I figured the bus stop for the 157 must be a short ways, so I set off again on the street. I had been walking a fair distance before approaching another bus stop that read the same thing: 158, 159. I begrudgingly hopped on the next 159 that stopped at the skytrain. A quick one-stop trip away by skytrain, I arrived at the restaurant sweaty and exhausted. After lunch, Arsh departed and Kiwi and I took a bus back to our old suite to pick up the last of our things.
We squashed as much as we could into the little Kia hatchback, having a small mishap with a bottle of soy sauce. At 4pm, we were finally done outside. Kiwi and I began to slowly shuffle things about the suite, still exhausted, we managed to set up my office and the living room area. I also washed 3 loads of laundry that included our sheets. By 9:30 we both could feel the tiredness sink in. We went to bed early that night in fresh sheets.
Fresh sheets, and a fresh start.
-Strawberry
No comments:
Post a Comment