Solo on Sunday

Feeling a strong hankering to check in with myself this morning.

I’m sitting in the shade, out front of my place. Gerrard Street East bustles. The odd neighbour walks by. I can hear John, Fiona, and Kathy in their living room, attempting to train their dog Milo how to not be a dick.

I’m trying to decide what to make of the day. At 6pm I’m teaching a photography workshop in the Distillery District – which gives me 8 hours to come up with something else to do in the meantime.

Jazzy spent the day yesterday prepping photos for a project I need to complete within the next few days. I could get on that.

I could, but I don’t really feel like it. Something about today, a sunny warm Sunday, that suggests I save the editing for Monday.

So what to do?

Writing perhaps? Reading? Wandering aimlessly?

Jazz didn’t leave the house yesterday. Instead she sunk roots deeper into our new home. Organized her room. Frittered on the internet. Completed the aforementioned photo prep I had her working on. I think all this excitement, moving around, and activity had her feeling a strong need to spend the day by herself.

I invited her to take in a football game with me in a neighbourhood pub, but she was looking forward to being alone for a spell. John joined me instead.

The Riders won by the way.

This morning, Jazz woke up early, got herself ready, and took the subway to a church she researched on the internet – her first Toronto solo outing as a resident. I guess that’s a metaphor for something too.

I’m going to clean up the place, go for a shower, and find a wander up and down Kingston Road. A number of really cool shops can be found along there. Perhaps one of ’em will offer me a place to sit and read for a few hours.

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