Are You Kidding Me?

This blog episode contains material that may not be suitable for the very young, the very elderly, those prone to fainting fits, and anyone wishing to visit me within the next few weeks. Viewer discretion is advised. Due to the serious nature of this entry, the usual standards of humor have been curtailed. Sniff.

Loyal readers, you might have noted that for the last two or three weeks I have refrained from commenting on this crazy ghetto-fabulous, dilapidated, how in the world this building get approved, apartment we call home. Rest assured, during this time pipes were bursting all over the place like fireworks on Canada Day and the sweethearts at the Fire Department have been making their routine visits.

My long-suffering spouse, P, my three year old, Lanes, and I don’t even bother to figure out what’s going on when they show up because they come here so often. P is eternally exasperatingly nonchalant anyway, and Lanes just wants to be one because she loves the trucks. P and I are grateful because they usually come and boss around the management here to make sure that everything is ok for the tenants.

So on Wednesday, P rushed off to his temp job and as soon as I packed Lanes off to preschool I set about getting the apartment cleaned. I tried to procrastinate since I hate vacuuming in particular—the chord always gets in the way and the machine itself weighs as much as half a camel and whenever I try to move the blasted thing, it puts up as much resistance as a hippie going limp during an arrest. It's also as loud as the engine of a 777.

I wrestled with it and was vacuuming ferociously when I heard a huge thud--even over the noise of the machine. The sound was so loud, I really couldn’t imagine what it was, and I figured in this apartment, the ‘don’t ask don’t tell’ policy is best. If it was important, eventually someone would knock on my door. I didn’t have to worry about the safety of Lanes and P, so I just ignored it as there was a toilet to be scrubbed.

I cleaned the bathroom from top to bottom and felt rather pleased with myself for a few seconds because it would be only fleetingly clean before my spouse and child destroyed all my hard work. When I came into the living room, I noticed the fine folks at the Fire Department were back in the courtyard/parking lot, along with an ambulance.  It’s sad when you come to find these things mundane.

I was about to walk away from the window when I noticed three cop cars had also come and a policeman was cordoning off the entrance with yellow tape. Now I’ve watched enough TV shows (a great wealth of information) to know that that means bad news. I was dying of curiosity to know what was going on.

It was coming close to time for me to go and get Lanes and I was wondering how I was supposed to get out if they were sealing off the entrance. More importantly, I wanted to know if I should call the school and ask them to keep her if something major was going down. If there was a lunatic on the loose or something (self not included), I really did not want her out and about in the midst of the madness.

When it came close to the time to get her, I sauntered towards the entrance to the building and I was about to ask the policeman outside if I could leave. The words never came out of my mouth because I walked smack dab into a dead body on the sidewalk. The upper torso was covered by a white sheet, but the feet were sticking out.

All my years of watching CSI could not prepare me for seeing something like this in real life. The policeman tried to smile and tell me that I should take another exit if there was one and that I wouldn’t want a child to come and see that. I was stammering so much, he probably figured I was a non-English speaking immigrant.

My mind had stopped working because instead of turning right and going to the other exit, I went to the bowels of the building and tried to get out through the underground parking lot. The gates out of that place don’t open unless a car puts weight on a pipe on the ground.

I went by the gate and was stomping on that blasted pipe with a vengeance. I think I was trying to shake off my shock and distress that we really are living in some sort of crazy pitiful excuse of a building. I was yelling at myself for raising a child in this joint. A car came and I eventually got out with enough time to grab Lanes.

I clung onto her for dear life and I didn’t even notice that it was raining and that I was carrying her half way home, stunned because I just couldn’t believe what I had just seen. Lanes was excited about a picture she drew in school and she was all smiles about something or the other. When she started singing a four letter word starting with s that is a synonym of poop, I realized that I was saying the word nonstop. That shut me up. Apparently swearing is the way I deal with shock.

I took a deep breath and pulled myself together. I called P and told him what happened and instructed him that on no uncertain terms was he to step on the part of the sidewalk I saw the body. He was so blasé about the entire thing. Anyone would have thought I called to give him the grocery list or something.

Annoyed that P didn’t get all rattled up, I hung up and tried to think of what to do. I kept hearing the voices of my aunt and my mom in my head—if you get a huge shock, take glucose. But then again, those sisters used any excuse to take in a shot of sugar. It seemed like a good idea at the time, because although I really don’t like the taste of liquor, I finally understood why people say ‘I really need a drink right now’.

Lanes had some popsicles and she was delighted and bouncing with joy when I took them out and gave one to her and finished one myself within 2 seconds. Normally the popsicles are given to her under so many conditions—wash your hands, eat your food, not before bedtime.

Oblivious to the post traumatic stress that her mom was incurring, Lanes was rather enjoying herself because I didn’t get her to wash her hands, didn’t bug her about what food she did or most likely didn’t eat in school, didn’t control her TV time. She had a free run of the apartment and got away with eating way too many cheese slices.

At that point I was glad she was blanketed in the innocence of childhood and I prayed she could stay that way as long as she needed to. I was really upset about not only the sight of the dead body, but not knowing how that poor soul came to that end. I spotted a neighbor on the way in from the garage and she told me the deceased jumped from the 11^th floor on his own volition. I was relieved it was not murder at least.

I was thankful for my laziness. Once in a blue moon, I take a walk around the building before getting Lanes. If I had felt so motivated, I might have been right out there when it all happened. I figured using the title ‘It’s Raining Men’ for this blog entry would be very very tacky, and so I refrained from it, especially since many neighbors said they didn’t know him personally, but he was a really friendly guy.

We live in such a lovely neighborhood. The tenants are all families with school going children, elderly folk, and college students. When we first moved to Canada, we were so excited about moving into this place. Looks are so deceiving. When we move from here, as I am certain we must, I’m going to google every single thing about the new place we are going to. I never thought to do that before, but clearly, it’s a good thing to do!!

The days after this incident, I scrubbed the apartment clean. I found dusting and cleaning caused me to lasso my wondering thoughts and I was able to while away the time until Lanes got home. I have not been crazy about staying home alone these past few days.

The end of the week was much better for us. On Friday we went to the house of a really nice couple we met through friends and had a good time. They have two girls (three if you include their absolutely adorable puppy) and a cat. Lanes was delighted by the company (although her screeching at the puppy might have driven the poor lil thing insane).

On Saturday I went to my first every bridal shower in Canada and on Sunday P and I had people over for dinner for the first time since we got here. That was an invitation that was six months overdue.

We had over the very first friends we met over here. I managed to feed everyone without getting them sick (to the best of my knowledge), so I was rather pleased with myself since I cleaned, decorated, cooked and put stuff away all by myself. Well I got P to vacuum and keep Lanes out of my hair while I cooked on Sunday.

Ever ready for a good time and a party, Lanes picked out a dress, put sunglasses on her head and obediently didn't rearrange my decorations. She was disappointed it was nobody’s birthday (because she wanted ‘happy birthday cake’), so she decided the party must be for her since she is just so fabulous. We went with it. So the end of the week, at least had a happy tone. Hopefully we will back to having more ‘funny’ adventures next week, so until next time…