Technically, it’s ‘summer-time’ for me — I have finished all my exams and my final grades are all in — but it doesn’t feel like it at all. Not just weather-wise, but just in the little things, as well. This is the first year in all of my five years of living in Toronto that I’m not moving at the end of April. It’s also only the second time that I’m not frantically job searching, either. It’s very weird.
My head hurts. It hurts from time to time, but I always forget to take an advil or tylenol bc I constantly forget that humanity has evolved to the point of having headache relief in the form of a pill. How weird — I constantly complain about the fact that wifi doesn’t work in so many places, and yet I forget that I can take a pill to cure my headache.
I’m tired. It was a long Easter weekend — I was home from Thursday night until Monday night. I cooked all day long on Friday, because it hit me that I’m not going to be the baby of the family forever, and one day, I might be the one responsible for making hunter’s stew and cabbage rolls and perogies and borscht to set the table with. I might be the one that has to pick out the cuts of meat from the butcher, and simmer the cabbage until it’s done. That, too, is an incredibly strange and uncomfortable thought. Anyway — I cooked all day long on Friday, and felt really proud of myself by Saturday, although my cabbage rolls could have used a little more salt. I am a perpetual, uncure-able under-salter.
I’m very excited for this summer. The beginning of summer always feels like I am cracking open a fresh, clean, blank notebook.