The Art of Showing Concern for an Art Gallery Refugee

I’ve been spending a lot of time in the house, working from home. After three days of looking out the windows into the cold, I realized that I should probably step outside at some point to see if my legs still work.

To this end, I bundled up and headed down to the library on Queen Street East. Walked through the ravine on my way, and the crick was running. Temperature outside was balmy and the air in my lungs was freshly brisk. What a perfectly wonderful decision I had made for myself.

Walking home from the library last night was when I realized my plan had a major flaw to it. Once that hot afternoon sun dropped out of the sky, the cold wind off Lake Ontario took ahold of the place, and shook it to its bones. My gawd it was cold!

So cold, I had to stop in at Mullin’s, three blocks from home, just to warm up (with a cold beer). I called Dave, and he joined me a few minutes later. It was Dave, and me, and the bartender most of the night.

Then some guy walked in wearing nothing but jeans and a suit jacket. He looked like he just stepped in from a spring walk through the daisies.

“What the hell are you wearing!” I exclaimed – to which he explained that two doors down, his wife was opening an art exhibit. After several hours, he desperately felt a need to escape. He wound up buying Dave and I each a shot of expensive Irish whiskey, as thanks for showing concern for his well being.

This morning Jazzy and I discussed the fast we’re supposed to be on. No meat or dairy for 40 days, but our fridge yet clings stubbornly to a brick of cheese, a half-eaten roll of salami, some ham, and a carton of eggs. We decided we’ll start the fast once those remaining hold-outs have been consumed.

To this end, we made ham & egg muffins. Stir up some eggs in a bowl, line the muffin tray with slices of ham, pour the eggs in, and bake. It’s always wonderful when spontaneous little things come up, that we can do together.

I’m thinking I’m going to head out again today after I make some phone calls for the sitcom. This whole business of heading outside and breathing fresh air seems to be compelling. Worst case scenario, I wind up at Mullin’s again.

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