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Jenna's
Diary appears every Friday
May
10
OK.
Woodland Mushroom is PINK. PINK. There are no pink rooms in
Architectural Digest, what is Irene thinking of?
I
noticed that it was pink when we were putting it on but Miss-I-know-everything-because-I've-had-precisely-five-lessons-in-interior-decorating
said "No, Jenna it'll dry browny-taupe." It's been
four days now! When is this damn stuff going to dry?
I've
had to cover the sofa because it's so delicate that I'm frightened
to walk by it fast in case I burn the nap off it.
What
a disaster. Jeff said the place looks fine but he's been working
so much he's hardly here.
On
a more positive note the area is beautiful, absolutely beautiful.
One hundred percent upscale. Thin lovely people drinking expensive
coffee in expensive clothes. I really belong here - or will
do once I get a new wardrobe.
My
neighbourhood grocery store Albertos is gorgeous, they have
over 400 types of cheese and 30 different types of olives.
A loaf of bread costs $3.75!
I think that's how they keep the riff raff out.
May
12
Jeff's
had to go away on business again! God he works hard. I don't
want to be like his ex-wife demanding all of his time, but
you'd think that he'd reserve a little bit of time to start
up his new life!
Irene
and I went shopping today for towels. She refuses to admit
that Woodland Mushroom is pink so I refused to buy the tan
coloured towels she suggested. They would have looked great
in my new bathroom, much better than the cranberry ones I
picked out but she has to learn.
I
wouldn't even be wasting my time rushing from shop to shop
with her furnishing my apartment if it weren't for the fact
that she's really down right now and I don't have anyone else
to do it with.
May
13
Irene
stayed over last night. After going to B.B. Bargoons we decided
to have a bite to eat and a bottle of wine,. Big mistake.
No
sooner had she finished the first glass the waterworks started.
Not only is her husband not showing up for their joint counseling
sessions, she says he's hardly ever home. Sheesh, here we
go again.
My
friends run around out of control, wrecking their lives and
it's up to good 'ol Jenna to pick up the pieces. It is so
tiring! I know I'm going to have to show some tough love and
lay it all out for her. I know it's up to me to say "Irene,
your marriage is finished, kaput, over - move on!" but
I think I'll wait until the apartment is finished. She's screwing
up pretty bad right now, what's going to happen if she has
a meltdown? I think it's pretty good of me to give her something
to occupy her time before the big break-up. I'd thank someone
if they did it for me.
She's
still sound asleep on the couch. God I wish she'd go. She'll
probably get up, complain about how bad she feels then it
will be blah, blah, blah about her husband. I really hate
to see my friend in such bad shape and I know the best thing
I can do right now is listen and try to provide emotional
support. But not today. I want to get some curtains and maybe
a pedicure.
I'm
going to stay in bed until she goes.
May
15
Damn.
Jeff phoned to say he's going to have to stay over another
night. His cell was cutting out so it was really hard to talk.
God I miss him! It is so hard to start a new life with someone
who's never home.
Luckily
I've kept busy. I went shopping in my neighbourhood yesterday
and it was eye-opening. There is definitely a class system
in place here.
I
think if I want to move out of my middle class upbringing
and move into the upper echelons of society I'm going to have
to stop being so friendly. With my very keen eye I've noticed
that the people in Forest Heights rarely get friendly with
the help.
Friendly
in middle class circles is a way of saying "I won't hurt
you and I will bake pies for your church sale" Friendly
in these circles means "I have a day pass."
To
shake off the middle class barnacles I will have to start
acting more like my neighbours - or I guess more accurately
- my peers. In future I will not try to make friends with
the concierge. (That's probably why he hates me. ). Under
no circumstances should I apologize to the janitor for walking
across his clean floor. (OK, I didn't actually apologize but
I did feel bad) and to greet the postperson by name is a big
faux pas. The way I see it, being able to relate to these
people means you are one of them. Which I'm not.
I
tried out my new attitude at Albertos' cheese counter. I dressed
up to the nines and watched the people ahead of me in line
to get some tips.
When
it was my turn, I resisted the urge to say "hi"
to the stony faced clerk. Instead, in a cool cultured voice
I asked for 600 kilograms of Mature Fontina and, like the
people ahead of me, when I said "please" it didn't
sound like a question.
I
expected speedy deferential service, but no. The woman gave
me a sour look and in broken English said "We no have,
we only have this." This made absolutely no sense as
that is what I wanted. I asked again in a more commanding
tone while pointing to it , but still "We no have."
I turned to the people in line behind me and rolled my eyes
as if to say "Can you believe this?" I turned back
and repeated my request enunciating every word loud and clear.
Still, the same response. I figured she might be one of those
bitter White Russians and in a very frosty voice asked to
see the manager.
Stupid metric system. It took me a while to catch on. It was
only after the manager said they don't do wholesale or bulk
that I understood.I turned to have a laugh with my peers in
the line behind me but I guess they were thinking of other
things. Well, at least the manager called me"Madam"
which is good.
Tomorrow
I'm going to buy prosciutto. Tonight I'm going to learn how
to pronounce it.
This
is exactly like "My Fair Lady" except there's no
Professor Higgens, no music and I don't have an unfortunate
accent to overcome. Other than that it's exactly the same.
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