The Bloody Doors Off

Took a spill today on the ice. Which, you ask yourself, after so many days (what, 2 weeks?) after the ice storm, who still has ice on their sidewalk? The answer is: way too fuckin’ many.

I was on the Danforth across the street from Greenwood Station. Had been out to drop off my monthly bankruptcy report and dropped by Mollie’s restaurant to pick up liquid for my eCigarettes. She’d gifted me 2 new eGo devices (which are awesome) as well and yeah, I have great friends. So I’d taken the subway to Greenwood (and seriously people, it’s 4pm, when did rush hour get pushed up so early? when I was on the Yonge line at 3:30, it was packed) and decided to walk to the Tim Hortons for a coffee.

Boom. Flat on my ass. I was stunned more than anything else (feeling a little stiff and bruised now but it’s not so bad) but jeebus, the fact that the owner of the barber shop didn’t react… A teenager came up and asked if I was okay (thus restoring my faith that a few of the future generation holds promise) but the owner of the shop? Nothing. Even after I opened his bloody door and told him to take care of the ice. That if I’d hurt myself he’d have been liable. (It was nearer to the door than the sidewalk itself.)

Kinda wished I’d waited until tomorrow to make the run. We’re finally going to get above 0C Friday, and the ice will finally be headed south (to the gutters).

Yeah, boring blog post today. I’m avoiding thinking about work (the lack of) and finances.