Do not ask me questions.

Says Miss Maryanne, pouting on the window seat. Freezing shut-in days are most like Jane Austen novels, I feel. I should write another sentence, that requires a comma. That one didn’t. Anyway.

How was your New Year’s Eve? For the second year in a row, I was forced to do nothing and asleep by ten thirty. It was pretty awesome, because the next morning I could actually see through my eyelids and hold conversations with people without wishing their mothers had never responded to their fathers’ eye twinkles, just so I wouldn’t have to be here, now, conversing with them when all I wished in the New Year was silence.

We’re moving to Shelbyville. An hour and a half north of Toronto lies a house with my daughter’s, my husband’s and my name on it (respectively). This is because I get final stamp approval, so it reaches my desk last. As we speak, I’m surfing through vintage chesterfields for my library. Sounds grand, doesn’t it? I think the library will be the size of our current apartment’s washroom. But, still. LIBRARY. Walls of books and a chesterfield and a cup of whatever, I don’t care. LIBRARY. What on earth will I do up there, people who know me have asked the Universe. How will you stand living in the country? It’s not really the country. It’s more like the secret passageway between the City and Country rooms; my own private crawlspace wherein to hide me treasures.

What happened was the Perfect Building owners decided not to bloody sell. So, dashed were my cookie and makeup consultation store dreams! Gone were the halcyon visions of sunny apartment in the Junction, before it becomes the new Queen West. No matter, I dream a lot. There are a few options out there in Shelbyville, but, best to keep them close under coat until I’m decided on a path. I’m tired of jinxes and falling through the goddamned floor boards.

This means y’all get to travel with me on my renovation journey. Trek through the thickened jungle with me, cut down the live vines with your machete as they threaten to tighten ’round our necks and deposit us safely into the mouth of a man-sized Venus Flytrap. It’ll be fun! The web address will move, just as soon as I can figure out what on earth another person wants with the domain ‘’, but it’ll be grand. We’ll have a blast.

p.s. no, I can’t decide on a theme for this blog. This particular one is called ‘Ocean Mist’, which is a perfume you can buy at Shopper’s Drug Mart.


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