It’s an absolutely stunning morning. The sky is clear and the air seems pristine; I can see Vancouver Island clearly from my office window.
I’m housebound today, awaiting delivery of my deck heater, bar-b-q, patio table and its bench. I’m hoping they all come early so I can venture over to North Vancouver to get spa supplies. Todd has sent me list of chemicals for my hot tub so he clearly plans to get it operational this weekend.
And, bless Todd: He’s bringing a chimney broom to clear out the chimney.
On Monday I changed my address on my driver’s license, served notice to my strata and ordered a three-month stash of HIV medications — all before the brunch I enjoyed with several theatre friends at The Sylvia. I picked up Bruce (on foot) on the way.
In the afternoon I went to Service Canada to change my address for my pension providers and afterwards I did a little more kitchen packing. Now I’m really down to the last items.
I had to “play deaf” at Service Canada. I signed that I have good hearing and she smiled and acknowledge my sign with a thumbs up but continued to write to me. At that point writing out that I am not deaf would have felt awkward — almost rude — so I just let her keep writing her questions. She was faultlessly polite and kind and not at all condescending, just nervous perhaps.
But I feel like a professional mute now. I’m no longer uncomfortable with by my speech condition. I carry a note pad and write my questions or needs and everything works just fine. And I’ve stopped apologizing. I think that’s a sign of progress. A week today is my eighteen-month mark without speech (except with trusted friends).
I stopped working at 4:30 for a bath with Vivaldi. At five, Dianne, Ashlee and DR arrived for champagne before dinner at the Granville Island Hotel. It was our “last supper” together before my move.
Four more sleeps.