Shared space

Rebecca shares the living room space,
resting on the couch, her arm suspended
to keep the blood running down to her heart,
counting the days until the cast comes off.

Eleven, today.  Ten, tomorrow ....

Before I came to Victoria, there were already four people in this San Lorenzo Avenue bubble. Two people work from home, and two are going to college or university from home. Shared space is carefully worked out so 4 people can either go to work or go to class in the same house. As well, I’ve arrived for 3 months. A fifth space has been created space for me: That would be a space for my books, my files, my New Yorkers, a place for my computer and a my bags, my files, my rule and stapler.

Steve bought me a new table at Canadian Tire: grey 8-foot, collapsible utility table. He put that in the room above the garage, the room where Duncan works: a grand piano in one corner, some exercise equipment against another wall, Duncan with a space on the east wall and me looking toward the south, out the window into the backyard.

I like sharing space with Duncan. I'm learning when his Duncan’s classes are and how to get myself to a different room when they are on, since I don’t want to be in his background during his Zoom meetings.

I love spreading my writing material out. I want to make all of the jobs before me, visible at all times, though I wouldn’t recommend this as a strategy to anyone else. As well, I want all of the accessories within easy reach: coloured pencils, yellow highlighters, an erasers, a stapler, and a hole punch. I don’t need a snack drawer. Next to my desk is the water cooler. Across the hall is a fully equipped kitchen.

My sister, Moiya, asks me on the telephone, how I am. She says, no really? How are you really?

Given the current circumstances, I can't think of what else would add to my happiness.

I'm learning to have some social encounters via Zoom.

And let's face it I have four other people here in the house that I can talk so a lot of social encounters could happen.

As well, Steve has a dog. I'm not a dog person. The dog and I are never in conversation. Still the dog has trained me to let it out to the back porch when it scratches on the door and conversely to open the door when it wants to get back in. No dog needs to go out and in every ten minutes, except this dog, Penny.

As an added bonus, f I get out of bed in the middle of the night, my noise wakes her and she comes upstairs, always using her nose to give a hard enough bang on the door that the latch on the lock gives way and she can get in.

I haven't quite sorted myself out, electronically. There must be some curmudgeon in me, or may it is just that learning any new electronic programme is hard. I had a cheque that needed to be deposited to Canada Trust. I've seen Miranda do this with her telephone. Steve tells me it's easy-peasy. So I do a tutorial one day and then make a valiant effort with my cheque which doesn't work out. The next day I do a few more tutorials, go back to that app on my phone and I try to see what went wrong. But I keep doing the same wrong thing over and over.

Again, still no success and I think to myself I could have walked down to the Canada Trust in 40 minutes, deposited the check, walked back, and got some exercise benefit from the walk.

On the third day, having created only anxiety, Steve rescued me. He showed me a drop-down box I didn’t see. As well, sometimes just the act of swiping my finger up on the screen down the screen can give me new choices that I need. I just have to remember that action of that swipe is available.

Like everyone else that is electronic, I make mistakes but none of that is Covid related. A few days ago someone taught me how to do voice recognition typing on Google Docs. I thought I had died and gone to heaven.

Now I can sit and talk to the screen forever and the typing is don automatically. So great to be introduced to an electronic transcriber, who makes fewer mistakes that I do when I try to transcribe things.

Such a fabulous world.

Arta