Tales From The Shelter – 36
There was big excitement tonight because an owl was perched on a fence beside the building. I missed it but it reminded me that I’m an owl feather carrier and I hadn’t thought of that in a while because it’s easy to forget to keep up on ways and I don’t have any buddies here of that ilk. It’s an honour to be able to carry owl feathers and reminds me so much of encounters I’ve had with them when I lived on the island.
Retarded Martha is back in circulation. Damn. She imposed self exile for two weeks and we thought she had quit smoking as wasn’t coming onto the smoking deck. But give her an inch and she’ll take about 500 miles because Bossy got trapped in the elevator with her and said, ‘Hi’ after Martha said ‘Hi’ to her. This opened the door for Martha as no one was talking to her so next thing you know she’s knocking on Bossy’s door, resplendant in her thick red lipstick and bleached blonde hair (she insists people mistake her for Tori Spelling all the time – is that something anyone with any sense would want to admit?). She asked Bossy if she could do anything for her or get her anything but Bossy played it Kurt (which is what I call her when she’s being curt, only I say she’s being Kurt Russell).
Every morning Martha opens her door wide open and does her ‘cleaning while talking to God’ routine. Who wants to see/hear that, plus her constant stretching to show off her body…I mean, yuck! So I get up from the smoke deck, walk inside and close the door to the lounge that seperates us from her room. She opens the door again so I close it again and she finally gives in.
A few of the gals here have applied to go to Greasy Mansion as it’s the Silly Man’s sister transitional housing and gives you a bachelor apartment, but you can’t have overnight guests and have to sign them in and out, and it’s very close to the corner of Pain and Wastings. Nope, not for me, unless there’s some way it can speed up your application for housing elsewhere.
The Tamil women have been getting louder on the phone and in the hallways. I’ve been woken up a few times as well as some of the other women. Guess their feeling comfortable enough here now, which is good in one sense, but doesn’t do much for us. Some have moved in to Canadian Tamil Congress housing so we have some new ones to fill the void. I have no idea what their lives must have been like or the woman who’s from Burundi, which abutts Rwanda and has the same tribal and civil war going on between the Hutus and the Tutsi’s….bloody hell , that’s all it could be.
I’m sick. Again. I’m tired of living in a petri dish. Time to go shower in the smallest shower stall in the world then slap on some shitty dvd I’m watching. I’ll feel better tomorrow then today, right?