So, helped a friend clean her old place today, and she was very grateful and sweet, and made the comment in reference to her whole moving experience: "What would I do without my friends?"
This got me waxing a bit poetic and nostalgic about my own moving, furniture acquiring and friendship experiences. Or maybe it's just the PMS talking...who knows.
A good friend, Lynn, recently left the city, and bequeathed me two giant, rather ugly, but suitably squashy and comfy armchairs. She even arranged two likely young lads (one friend and one brother) to haul the chairs up to the 3rd floor for me so I wouldn't have to worry about it. This is my most recent furniture contribution, and I love them. It adds extra seating for more peeps, and nice cozy spots for me. Said friend is a fellow student from the Folklore Department, and I suddenly realized that a huge amount of my current possessions have originated from this hub of learning and iniquity!
I have two bookshelves bought from Lynne, a PhD Folkie, and her hubby Steve, both of whom returned to their native United States, as well as the complete Black Adder VHS set (previously owned by another grad). This couple also supplied my futon, which has most definitely made the departmental rounds and was owned by a few other lowly students who have joyously bent the bars and compacted the cushion nicely. I have a bed and some chairs, as well as a sewing machine, purchased from Jodi and Ian, another couple, both folklorists, who have since moved on as well. A kitchen table, coffee and end table, and some dishes from Kelly, who went to teach in Korea and work on her thesis. Additionally, I have various books, articles, video cassettes and an Irish newspaper all left, "free for the taking," by fellow grads; and a kick ass set of tea cups and saucers from Dr. Paul Smith, beloved and truly mental prof. This is all not to mention the overwhelming help, advice and small favours my colleagues provide me with!
The next ring of this furniture ripple relates to the university as a whole. Meeting Ginny through German classes, and then subsequently her partner Blair, meant that I have enjoyed much assistance, grocery trips, and awesome knick knacks and bath products! From working in the QEII campus library, I was able to score a plethora of bookshelves from retiring librarian Laura, and from my bosses Michael and Dawn have happily accepted Cd's, gift certificates and chocolates (in the form of Xmas goodies). As I get to help with the book sale each year, I also make out like a bandit in the used reading material racket. Definitely a perk.
In the ever broadening pool, friends and roommates have bequeathed me with artwork, dishes, posters, knick knacks, books, music, movies, calendars, games, food products and food-like products, and of course support and fun times.
When I first moved to Newfoundland I lived at the outskirts of town (having not read a map when I signed up for my apartment over the phone in Van.), and my landlord and new found neighbours made sure I ate and knew how to get around, and gave the "girl from B.C." a lamp, TV stand, desk and bed.
The biggest ring, the one that almost touches the end of the proverbial pond (I am certainly prosaic this evening...must be all the cleaning products I used today!), represents those people, family and friends alike, who actually got me to Newfoundland, and made sure I was OK when I got here. Nathan sent me a gift certificate to Zellars that enabled me to buy a desk and chair, and much needed kitchen accessories, as well as sending me care packages. Crystle and Nathan helped get me home for my first visit a year after my arrival, and Crystle recently sent me a fabulous care package filled with everything from deodorant to DVDs. My auntie bought me a TV my first Christmas away so I wouldn't go stir crazy (I am a TV-generation gal!!). Parents and my brother of the younger persuasion have sent me gobs of cash, care packages and all manner of interesting things, and mummy has put up with many rants and odd phone calls.
I suppose, if I really wanted to be truly entrenched in my prose-osity at this moment, I could also mention the splash back (like a guy in the can after a night of drinking) that represents all the help just getting on my feet and back to school after my separation, which led me here in the first place. Or should those people be shot for trapping me in a never ending cycle of winter and graduate school hell? Who knows. I guess they get their payback in my rather poor "friend-man-ship" over the years. They knew what they were signing up for.
Yes, my ripple metaphor has been beaten over the head like so many hippies at a cop convention, and I don't even have a daisy in the barrel of my gun to show for it!! Ah well, a little waxing on now and then should not only be allowed, but encouraged. Otherwise how will you know when you're high, drunk, or dying??
Besides, after the mouse incident, I think I deserve a little compassion, non?
Like sands through the hour glass, and ripples across the pee-filled kiddie pool, these are the metaphor-filled days of our lives!
So sayeth the rippling Venus!