The Spork

After four years, I finally bought a spork.

“Do you want a bag for that?”, the clerk asked me.

“Do I look like an asshole?”, I replied.

He didn’t answer, but the look on his face said “Kind of”.

I am in Toronto again. I am a block from our old apartment. Coming home is eerie, but simultaneously soothing.

I was first compelled to buy a spork (a cross between a spoon and a fork) 4 years ago, about a week before Joey got his lung transplant. I went for a stroll with Koren and happened upon it. “That would be handy for when he’s in hospital”, I said. “Just get it”, she stated. “I’m going to think about it”, I answered. The total cost was $3.38 after HST. Apparently, I need to make more of an effort to splurge from time to time.

I am here. I am going to throw caution to the wind. The spork is within my possession and fun is within my grasp.

I went for a walk around our old hood after meeting with Laura Green, who works for “Connect. with Mark Kelley” on CBC. In addition to being super nice, Laura was a Shinerama participant from her university days, so she actually cares about CF. It is always such a sigh of relief to talk to people who actually care; it makes this whole awareness raising thing much less difficult on me. We chatted for a while, then I gave her a copy of 65_RedRoses, which she plans to watch on the weekend:

Thanks for being awesome Laura!

I should get a move on now and visit with Kathryn. Sitting on your computer while your friend is waiting for you is rude. And after all, I’m not an asshole.