Saturday, August 18, 2012

fixing things

My left arm hurts. I've just returned from a walk-in clinic and am now protected from polio, pertussis, diphtheria and tetanus, yay. The doctor, a stunningly beautiful East Indian woman, told me that I won't actually have antibodies floating through my system for 2 weeks - but since I cleaned the wound thoroughly and it's relatively shallow, she thinks the chances of my jaw locking are slim.

That's a relief.

Last week I wrote, I have termites but not breast cancer. Today, there's the same noise as all week, Richard hammering on the roof and Kevin and John sawing in the bedroom - but I probably do not have tetanus. Richard the poison guy injected his termite killer yesterday. It's a stunning, fresh summer day. So much to be thankful for.

On the way home from the clinic I cycled by the new Loblaws, decided that since I missed the market this morning, I should go in for some peaches, and somehow, God knows how, ended up with a basket of Ontario peaches and a pair of gorgeous burgundy corduroy pants. $19. Joe Fresh. Another addiction on its way.


  1. You know Beth, the Joe Fresh model is old-fashioned, but seems to be working. One of the reasons for its success is that, with the store often being inside a Loblaws, the lady of the household (I kid you not) can make a quick purchase with the week's grocery money and her partner / husband won't notice. Feels funny even typing it.

  2. Jason, if anyone would know about the habits of the lady of the household, it's you, thanks to your wonderful mother. One of the things I like a lot in France is Monoprix - which sometimes sells food, but mostly sells housewares, clothes and underwear, beautifully designed and very reasonable. Now I've discovered Joe Fresh in its Loblaws location - nice housewares and incredibly cheap, great clothes and food. And since I saw Picasso at the AGO, I don't need to go to France any more.

    I do have to wonder, though, as my conscience kicks in - how can they afford to sell clothes for so little? Is it because they pay extremely poor wages on the other side of the world?

  3. Hi, Beth's conscience. I'm afraid you're probably right. Uh, sorry.

  4. It's interesting how the conscience of an ethical, caring person, as I like to think of myself, can wobble and stretch: I won't ever eat veal, except in France; will only eat pork from small farms, meaning I can't give up pork but at least hope the pigs had a good life. And I hardly ever buy new clothes but when I do, I try to stifle the voice that wonders where they came from. How much harm, I ask, can one little person do? I know. Quite a lot.