I'm not blue. It's just a clever title.
Tonight I moved into my cousin's condo on Keele Street in Toronto. As soon as we pulled up to the building I knew it was one of those places I'd seen in a dream. The floors in the hallway are patterned after 50-year-old candy canes, alternating red and dark grey stripes leading toward the elevator. In the lobby are urn fountains trickling lightly into a shallow pool beside airport lounge furniture around an Ikea coffee table. It actually all looks quite lovely.
My room is painted light gold with a single white stripe running its perimeter near the ceiling. There is a large window facing the kitchen that I've drawn blinds over, and I'll probably never open them again. The room came equipped with an empty dresser and a couple of shelves to support my alarm clock, toiletries and the pumpkin-headed smurf that Jen and Eric gave me as a goodbye present, recalling the Halloween I wore a pumpkin on my head for my Jack Pumpkinhead costume. Everything I brought seems to fit into the space provided, and that's a load off my mind.
My cousin has no television, but he has converted a computer and shelving unit into a functioning DVD player, Wii module and entertainment centre. I can bowl and punch the leather couch behind me in frustration with each gutterball.
I feel lonely. Not blue - just lonely, and tired from the move. I have to master the transit system, which I've learned will normally involve Keele to the green and yellow subway lines. There is a Value Village and a DMV close by, both of which I've needed to visit urgently lately. Very strange conveniences. Can't wait to see what this place looks like in daylight.
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