After nearly five weeks away in one place or another, I’m finally back in Toronto, and about to get back into the regular grind of schoolwork and winter training. I’d like to say my slow rate of posting has been only because I’ve been travelling, or because of a conscious effort to try slow blogging, but that would be a lie. I’ve just been busy. But, even though I refuse to make new years resolutions, one of the things I have promised myself I will do this year is write a review of all five Canada Reads books again, and start taking notes of blog post ideas again, both of which I’ve been neglecting.
Two other resolutions are to workout every day and to spend more time relaxing by playing with my Wii, so all three of my resolutions promise to eat up more time that I don’t have. That’ll be interesting.
One thing I’ve noticed after my long absence from home—the one thing I came online tonight to make note of—is that the fours months’ work I’ve done carving out a space in my apartment’s communal fridge has fallen apart. For weeks I had been squeezing things in here and there, carefully placing my milk and my barbeque sauce in strategic nooks and crannies to expand the territory that was exclusively mine, like stones in a game of go.
By this time last month I had almost an entire shelf claimed to myself, with another spot for my milk and a small corner in the freezer for my meat. But of course the rule is to use it or lose it, and without my food taking up its accustomed space, enemy troops—bottles of beer and avocados which are clearly not mine—have moved in to occupy the territory. The half dozen bottles of long-lasting condiments left behind have done what they could to hold the line, but we’re in need of reinforcements. Meats and cheeses to define the border. Fruits and veggies to keep the space. Milk standing strong. Wish us luck.