By Lucy

P.S. Sorry about the last post! WordPress was being very glitchy and I got frustrated and just hit publish. By the way, we determined the chicken died of old age.

I’m starting to get stressed and I couldn’t tell you why. Which is concerning. I’m not really worried about money, I’m socializing, the work is slowing down. But I’ve been feeling that feeling in the back of my head, where I want a bag of chips and a bottle of whiskey. I can’t sleep and the vitals on my Fitbit are confirming it. Where there is always the potential for a feedback loop; stressed over bad vitals makes you more stressed, but I’m pretty good at shutting that down.

I decided to put the book and the Italian lessons aside for now, and just do the blog and play video games in my spare time, and rest my brain.

I’ve been playing Dredge. It’s a little indie game released in March of last year, to little fanfare. It’s cell-shaded (which I love), not even a gig in size and very chill. But what really grabbed everyone’s attention was the slow drip of the Lovecraftian horror into it. Lots of things try to ape Lovecraft, but very few succeed, because they’re just so darn enthusiastic to show you whatever monstrosity they’ve lovingly crafted. Dredge is a fishing game and starts deceptively simply; you arrive at the small New England town of Greater Marrow and get hired as a fisherman. The fishing is satisfying, a bunch of little mini-games, but the fish catch regardless of if you succeed at the games or not, the games just let you catch them faster, so you aren’t stuck if one of the games is too difficult for you. After a few days of catching normal fish like Cod, you start to fish up mutated fish. Then you decide to head out onto the water at night…

It’s great because it stays with that unscripted slow burn. For example, you might be sailing merrily across the open sea in broad daylight, when suddenly a massive Leviathan surfaces and cuts across your path! Sometimes it might try to eat you and sometimes it might just ignore you cuz it was on the way to do something else, and the horror is in not knowing! The plot is pretty simple, sparing spoilers; you just have to grab 5 MacGuffins, one in each section of the map, learning more about the cosmic horror story as you go.

Sunday, since I had Dredge downloaded, I just played that right through ’til noon. Then I had to clean the cabin for a showing, which included grabbing “nice” sheets from Simo to cover the bed. The sheets I use every day are her old kids sheets, covered in Sesame street characters. Sweep the floor, clean the ashes out, wipe down the kitchen and bathroom, and shove all my stuff into a drawer.

Kelly was around and offered to take us back to her place to check out the jobs she had. Since Jan is a journeyman carpenter, he told her 40$ an hour for each of us and she was ok with that.

Now… not that I want to rag on Kelly, cuz she works 7 days a week and has had a bad run of luck lately, but I don’t feel comfortable at her place. The three big dogs make me nervous, especially because they are trained hunting dogs and explicitly keep attacking each other with intent to kill to release their pent-up hunting energy. They’ve torn up most of her furniture – all she has left is the TV mounted to the wall, and a raggedy sofa. The carpet has also been torn off the floor by the dogs. Which is too bad, cuz the bones of the place are nice. There’s these wide glass patio doors that are probably great for summer evenings, and an open concept kitchen with an island, for hosting.

She cracked open a beer for each of us and put out a bowl of crackers.

Jan was unhappy with her plan. He doesn’t like sinking posts into concrete – he wanted to put a steel boot on them and tapcon them to the concrete. Which we could do, cuz the area she wanted the fence to be already has a poured concrete patio. But she wants them sunk, so more money for us as we have to chisel out the existing concrete and then dig the post holes.

She also texts and drives, and was happily telling us all about how she drives the company truck because she crashed her own and she doesn’t have to pay for gas now, while texting. It was all I could do to stay rigidly in my seat and not visibly panic!

After we’d been there for an hour, trouble struck. The people hadn’t showed up for the viewing and Simonetta was having a meltdown. She asked Kelly if she could keep us there and cook us dinner.

Umm, no thanks. Even if Kelly’s place didn’t make my skin crawl, this was my day off and I wanted to be flaked out by the fire catching Lovecraftian horrors. Jan clearly agreed with me (for whatever reason) so we convinced Kelly and Simo to let us go for take-out, and then we’d just go back to our respective cabins and not bother Simo. I think some days she gets so caught up in hosting that she forgets I’m ok with a packet of instant noodles.

Sunday night we had a new occurrence. One of the possums’ lost its mind. It was running around the yard, letting out this weird barking yelp. A few times it stopped on my porch, right outside my door, and I was unsure of the utility of trying to scare it off. It also clambered onto my roof, and I hope it ate some of the mice while it was there! Jan said it was so spooky that he locked his door for the first time (must be nice).

Despite the previous days’ theatrics, Simonetta was up early and quite cheerful on Monday. I started to wonder if Kelly had been the one making a big deal of it, since Simo had been texting her and not us. Perhaps she is so starved for regular friends she decided to use it as an opportunity to force us to stay for dinner?

Simo declared Monday would be a light day, which annoyed me somewhat. She honestly didn’t have that much for us to do, and the phone was ringing off the hook all day so she kept ducking out. I spent most of the morning seated at the kitchen table, listening to Jan talk and thinking that I’d rather be playing Dredge.

Jan managed to kill all my interest in him. I mentioned heating something up in the microwave and he went off on a rant about how he avoids using the microwave because “radiation”. Which turned into a rant about EMF and magnets and yada yada. I tuned him out and nodded along politely. People like him specifically bother me because they are the reason I’m scared to mention I have cancer! I’ve had too many incidents of people like that angrily telling me I shouldn’t have had chemo cuz cancer is caused by vaccines or microwaves or the military-industrial complex, and if I just use whatever magic water they’ve got I’d be fine. When I have to live and work with him for another 2 weeks, I’m not interested in starting a fight, so I just won’t mention it, but that’s the real damage.

Gary was going away for four days, going fishing. Which is nice, because it means the house won’t be swarmed with random farmers, we won’t be tidying up after him, and we can have whatever we like for dinner!

Ethan is decided to go to Akaroa until Gary gets back, although he isn’t getting paid and isn’t working. I think he’s trying to get laid and wants to get totally wasted without having to deal with Simo in the morning, which is fair enough.

Tuesday was also fairly slow and I wonder if it’s how things will go from now on. Feed the chickens, turn over the two cabins, weed in front of the cabins a bit, and that was it.

Jan loves the chickens; he’s always out there feeding them before me, and he greets them every morning with an enthusiastic “Hello ladies!”. He’ll pick them up off the ground and cuddle them and talk about how calm and sweet they are. He also sneaks them scraps and goes out in the afternoon to make sure they still have water.

Jan has also decided to quit smoking, a decision partially fueled by his realization that he was running out of smokes and had no easy way to buy more!

Simonetta went out while we were turning over the cabins, and when she came back the laundry was dry and I brought it in so we could fold it. An article came out in the newspaper about the property going on sale, so I read it out for both of us to have a little chuckle over. It’s not a bad article and it’s good for getting the attention of potential buyers, but for whatever reason the writer miswrote that Simo has 3 sons, when she has two sons and a daughter.

She always bristles whenever someone says she is Italian; she says she’s a poor Italian and just had the misfortune of being born there. The Vagabond says the same thing, which I commented on (in a roundabout way – she still doesn’t know he exists).

She paused. “I just never felt like I fit in there. It wasn’t until I went to England that I discovered myself.”

I commented the other day to someone, how right-of-centre Italian politics are. Their PM passed a law when she came to power banning people from using surrogacy, period. Which is Draconian enough, but she also recently passed another law promising to prosecute any Italian who went abroad to engage in surrogacy (and yes, the famously sexist Italians have a female head of state). I have to keep reminding myself that the Vagabond is actually pretty leftist for the country he was raised in, which probably had an effect on his decision to live in Canada.

It’s interesting how the only difference seems to be political. Cuz you can’t really take Italy out of the Italians; they both love to go on and on about the rules of cooking, etc etc, but they are lefties and that is just unacceptable.

I’ve been debating my “go away for a week and come back” plan more and more. Having trouble bending over to change the beds is standard for an older person with arthritis, but she has trouble with stairs as well. There is a single (admittedly high) step into the house, and she often has to pause and gather herself to mount it, to say nothing of going up the main stairs. I worry about how she will handle things while I am gone. I sincerely hope the estate is sold and closed on before I go back to Canada, so she doesn’t have to struggle for long.

She made carbonara for dinner on Monday, and rigatoni with some mixed veg on Tuesday.

We had a customer who booked last minute, for a reduced rate, who emailed Simo right away to request “something special” cuz they’re on their honeymoon. We all had a good laugh over that. You booked a hotel room last minute at a reduced rate on your honeymoon, no way! What kind of cheapskate are you?

On Wednesday we had a weird boon. Well, a boon for Simo’s pocketbook. The highway across the mountains washed out and closed, so there was a spate of bookings by people who are stranded and want to be nearby for when it opens again on Sunday.

For me, it is merely the tone of the work. Almost all of them are single night bookings, so there will be a bunch of changeovers.

The arthritis meds are working well for Luigi, although he is in the state where he feels better, overstretches and hurts himself. Still, it’s good to see him trying to keep up with Earl when we go for walks.

On Thursday, I got a message from Jan that he would take care of the chickens, which was very nice of him. He later commented that he found another dead chicken, which prompted all of us to tease him that he must be killing them!

Because of the insane amount of bookings due to the road closure, when Kelly came to pick us up we also did the changeovers. Changeovers are very fast when 4 people do them, after all, so we flew thru them.

Kelly found a packet of blue cheese in the fridge, which me and Jan went nuts over. We go hunting for mushrooms whenever we take the dogs for a walk, and we were waiting for a nice rainy day to grab a fresh crop of Russula that we found. There was also a parasitic mushroom we found growing on the poplar trees next to the chicken coop, which we were pretty sure was edible. A lunch of fresh eggs, fresh wild mushrooms, and some blue cheese sounds divine.

Then we piled into the truck and we were off!

Being in a car feels weird now, cuz I’m so used to travelling on the motorcycle.

Now, I don’t want to complain about Kelly (again) but she told us she made lunch, which turned out to be cold quinoa salad, intend to be eaten on a lettuce leaf like a wrap. Kelly, we’re working tradies, we need meat and carbs!

Jan was spicy, presumably because he stopped smoking and was feeling the cravings. But the slight edge to his temper manifested as teasing and flirting, which isn’t any different than the usual at jobsites, so I didn’t mind. Actually, the jobsite is where I feel home; the smell of sawdust, the sound of the jackhammer breaking cement, the slightly off-colour jokes are healing for my soul.

He was a good teacher, asking me what I know and then showing me tips and tricks. Coupled with our mutual familiarity with German culture, it was reminding me… not of what I had with the Vagabond, but what I wanted to have with the Vagabond. I was envious of the female scaffolder who got to work with her man all day. I’d love nothing more than to work with the Vagabond, learning from him like this.

Marking out the posts was the first problem. We were limited in where we could put the fence by the doors, windows and other outside fixtures of the building. There was also an argument to be made that we should have had a municipal officer come out and mark where any underground lines were. We felt pretty safe because there’s no gas line – her cooking gas is propane tanks – and the hydro lines were hanging from poles, but you never know!

Once we’d marked out where we wanted the 3 posts to go and started drilling, we ran into some problems. As you always do with these jobs, which is why most contractors hate them. Under the cement patio, where the middle post would go, there was a short layer of dirt followed by another thick layer of cement, which meant both of us taking turns arguing with the giant Hitachi drill. Once we’d broken through the big chunk of cement, we encountered a void with another layer of cement under it. What had been here? And, more importantly, would it start shifting once we had poured another layer of cement on top of it?

Kelly shrugged it off, so we got to work on the other posts. These had no surprises, so we raced to see who could dig theirs first and I won, naturally. He kept trying to use the big shovel to break it up small, but I realized it was a nice moist clay, which could be broken up into big chunks with a small trowel and extracted quickly.

The cement Kelly had bought for us literally said to fill the hole with water and then pour the cement mix on top, so we did! It seemed to work well, although we quickly realized we’d need more than the 5 20Kg bags she had. She ran out to the store while we worked on the first two posts and came back with enough for us to finish.

“Can you drive us to the liquor store? I give up.” I asked.

“Sure, there’s an ATM nearby so I can grab your pay.” She said.

“Give up on what?” Jan asked.

Sanity. Pretending. He who makes a beast out of himself gets rid of the pain of being a man, and all that jazz.

Jan didn’t want to buy liquor cuz he’s tempted to smoke when he drinks, but I pointed out to him he would have no ability to get smokes at the lodge, so he came into the liquor store with me.

The selection! I had half a mind to try some local stuff, or maybe buy a bottle of Baileys and called it good. But as we hunted around the store, showing each other funny bottles we found, I noticed a bottle of Crown Royale at the bottom of a rack. I couldn’t even find a sticker for where it belonged.

Jan picked a bottle called Diplomatico. I grabbed the Crown and took it up to the front. “How much is this? There’s no sticker.”

“100. That’s last year’s price, I’ve had that bottle for a year. The next bottle I buy to replace that will be 120.”

Hint hint, buy it now before the price goes up. Well, why not? It’s good to know that no matter how far I flee from Canada, I can always pass out with a belly full of Canadian whisky.

I was practically salivating on the car ride home. Nevermind that I hadn’t really had anything to eat today, I just wanted to go home and open the bottle. Once I got back into my cabin, I cracked the bottle and a wave of relief rolled over me as the familiar smell of whisky gave me a head buzz. I poured a small glass for Jan to try, then went into the kitchen to find out the plan for dinner. Simo was making bowls of mac and cheese for us, and then she wanted to be left alone as Gary was back and she wanted to talk to him.

Fine by me. I grabbed my bowl and took it back to my cabin and spent the evening drinking next to the fire.

I mean, two months without drinking are pretty good for an alcoholic.

When I got up to tend to the chickens, Jan was talking to one of the customers. This oughta be good, I thought.

“This gentleman here harvested our mushrooms.” Jan said, as I walked up.

“What! No!” Parasitic mushrooms don’t grow back like mushrooms on the ground do. We’d been waiting the better part of two weeks for some rainy weather, because it’s been dry and sunny since the Saturday before last.

“I’m so sorry, if I knew someone wanted them I wouldn’t have touched them! Most people don’t know they are edible!” He said, clearly quite sincere and contrite.

Well, at least we could confirm they are edible, cuz he wasn’t dead. One of the easy things about foraging for mushrooms is that the poisonous ones make you sick quickly. He told us they are called cyclocybe parasitica, or tawaka to the Maori. They are indigenous to New Zealand and don’t grow anywhere else, so if you do visit and you like mushroom harvesting, take a look around some poplars!

When we walked down to the chicken coop, I checked around – there are 5 poplar trees there, maybe another tree had some! We got lucky and found a nice fat crop high up in another tree, so we could try them!

Jan was giddy. I asked him when he stopped drinking and he said 4 AM.

“Ah, so you’re still drunk.” I laughed.

“Hey, there’s nothing in my contract about not drinking on the job!”

Not technically, and it’s not like we were working with heavy machinery or anything you needed to be concerned about. Still, “I’m not sure Simo understands the tradie thing.”

He winked. Cuz that’s what brings us together more than anything, honestly.

He found another mushroom that he says is edible and Simonetta says it isn’t. She does make a wild mushroom preserve and has spots she harvests around the property in the fall, so she’s got a book about it and everything. The book says there is a poisonous mushroom that looks like the edible one, and you can tell it’s poisonous if it turns blue when bruised, which it does, so I decided to side with her.

Kelly had a bad date the night before, so we all had a chuckle about what a waste of time boys are. I tried to hint about the Vagabond, but no one was in the mood to bite, apparently. It is starting to feel like I’m intentionally keeping a secret, but I don’t know if that makes sense. Am I?

Since we have 8 guests for breakfast tomorrow, I got sent to set out places for breakfast, because I’m obviously the one with good breeding. I ended up oversetting the table, because I decided it would be easier to pare it down than have to go back for more. Simo told me I was “too fancy” and show me how she wanted it done.

We went on a short trip to the Glenroy Hall to set up for tomorrow. There’s just a small fair there tomorrow, and since it’s around the corner, she doesn’t need my help. Just to set up.

When we got back, Jan made lunch of fluffy scrambled eggs, wild mushrooms fried in butter, and some toast. The freshly harvested mushrooms were delicious – the tawaka in particular have a meaty taste, the bits that got a perfect sear from the butter tasted almost exactly like bacon.

Trying to keep track of the seasons is tricky. January and February are their hot months, so January must be July and February is August. That also means December 21st, the shortest day in Canada, is the longest day here. Simo says the weather here tends to follow whatever the weather was like in Europe, so it should be quite hot here come January.

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Rich won’t talk to me anymore. We were bestest friends for the longest time; he was the first person I talked to in the morning, and the last person I talked to at night. He knew all my secrets, fear and hopes. Hell, not even a month ago I wrote that he was top of the list for people I wanted at my bedside when I died.

We never really recovered from the stupid thing he did in February. We just didn’t really talk about it, because I suspected (clearly correctly) that he wouldn’t offer an apology if pressed. But there were other little things too.

Other people have said “well, if he won’t talk/ apologize about something, that’s your answer”, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less.

Just feel kinda adrift now.

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I’ve been hooked on this random song from Hazbin Hotel. Hazbin Hotel, and the sister series Helluva Boss, is kinda like Ren and Stimpy; an animated animal series that you’d probably mistakenly show a child only to realize the characters swear with every other word and the subject matter is rather crude. Too crude for me, anyway. But the song drifted across my feed and I love it because it’s so upbeat and hilariously dark and sadistic. I’ve also been watching clips of Alastor, the character who is singing, because he’s one of a few characters who doesn’t swear and doesn’t really engage in crude humor. He’s a Hannibal Lector type serial killer, who kills people for being “impolite” and keeps admonishing people “you’re never fully dressed without a smile!” as he has a constant rictus grin.

It’s revived me from my writer’s block. I was stuck with concern that my book was too dark and disturbing, but then I remember stuff like Hazbin Hotel and Stephen King’s It were smash hits, so I shouldn’t worry too much!

When I was 12 we had a replacement teacher for a couple of weeks. She thought some of the stuff I turned in was disturbing (at least, for a 12 year old), and she tried to keep me behind to talk about it after class. I noped out of there and dialed back my work for a while. I’d been reading a lot of Dean Koontz around that time, I think. I still can’t hear moths pinging off the windows without thinking about Phantoms. That was a good book.

In random American political news, I almost died laughing when RFK Jr was quoted saying ““Why do we have Froot Loops in this country that have 18 or 19 ingredients, and you go to Canada, and it’s got two or three?” Umm it doesn’t, and I’m not even sure how you would manage that. It would need at least flour, sugar, colour and flavouring at a minimum, but also it just doesn’t. I’d love to know why he thinks Canada is some sort of haven of deregulation, though.

If you want reliable coverage of the meltdown of the American Medical system, I’d recommend Science Based Medicine. Personally, as Legal Eagle said earlier, at this point I give up and I just want some popcorn to watch the dumpster fire.