He's all mine (no sharesies!) though I occasionally let D. drive him. This makes him awesome. Also he's orange, which makes him awesome-er. And he's a Vibe and believe me, I'm feeling it. Here's a semi-side shot, for those of you who like that sort of thing:
And while I was having a lovely early-evening roam through the Art Gallery of Ontario (which is free on Wednesday nights!) THIS is what some very rude little punk (yes, I'm making some assumptions) did to Dexter.
On a busy street.
IN BROAD DAYLIGHT.
Yeah, that's right: SMASHED my window. STOLE my backpack. SUCKED.
Now, I won't lie: there's an element of humour here. I did lose some fairly expensive, quite necessary items, my eye glasses among them. I have to reference the brand here because this is the only designer item I've ever owned: Versace. Clearly I'm not meant to own designer frames though, since this pair - my second - has just been stolen and the first was eaten by the dog. Maybe it's Hakim Optical 2-for-1 for me from now on, but I digress.
So the humour in this situation (which is difficult material to mine right now, since I'm still so fuming mad) is that whoever went to so much trouble to execute a rapid-fire smash-and-grab ... on Dundas Street ... in broad daylight ... probably thought he was scoring a laptop in that there backpack. Not so. What he got was this:
- a stack of shelter magazines
- a box of multi-colored highlighters
- two pairs of prescription eye glasses
- my '50 Artists You Should Know' text book
- a copy of my art gallery assignment page and the corresponding essay
- one used notebook (though admittedly with a really nice red leather binding from the Fairmont Hotel chain)
- one pair of socks (I won't comment as to whether they were clean or dirty, but you can guess)
- a four-week-old
microbial science experimentbottle of water I keep forgetting to throw out, and
- some used Kleenex
Let's admire their handiwork for just one more minute, shall we?
Aren't all those glass shards coating my back seat so pretty? So picturesque? Makes me so mad ..... GRRRRRRRRRRRR. Tomorrow begins the delightful task of contacting the insurance company (and trying to pry some money out of them), and arranging for repair, etceteraaah, etceteraaaah. Good times.
SILVER LINING (yes, there is one) -
Tonight was the first time I've ever driven home - all 40 minutes, Toronto to Milton - with the windows down. What started as a very utilitarian decision (with the window out in the backseat, leaving the other windows up would have created a wicked percussion effect and likely blown out my left ear drum. This did not seem like a fun idea) became the most pleasant drive I've had in a looooong time. The weather was perfect, and the breeze was a thousand times better than air conditioning. I couldn't hear the radio over the sound of the wind in the windows, so I turned it off and drove in silence: no rocking out to headache-inducing bass lines and just time to think. Awesome.
And the smells? AH-MAZING! What would you expect, exhaust fumes? Maybe gasoline? Sometimes sewage? Me too. But what I smelled was (in order) cookies, some sort of sweet flowers (lilacs?), cooking garlic and onions (passing a slew of restaurants), more sweetness (honeysuckle?), field grass, a pond (the fresh kind, not the stagnant kind) and finally, cedar woodsmoke, which brought me right into home. It's the first time I've been really conscious of how the air smelled, and of noticing the changes as I drove through different areas. What's weird is that none of it smelled anything less than lovely, and I will definitely be doing that again (even when I have a choice to roll up my window, versus it being in a bajillion pieces in my backseat).
So that's my tale of woe for Wednesday. I had hoped to be reporting about my adventures at the AGO (so amazing) but that will have to wait until tomorrow when I've clawed my way out of the dumps a bit. I've thrown my windows open wide at home and hopefully the fresh air will clear my head and let me sleep a little easier; tomorrow will be a busy, probably frustrating day. And at the heart of it all, poor Dexter. He'll probably have to go therapy now.