Getting comfortable makes me nervous. It's not that I crave drama and excitement but life in the suburbs is so homogeneous that I'm afraid of losing touch with reality. And if you don't have a handle on the real world, if you are too cozy and sheltered, it isn't long before you're peeking at the world from behind your curtains or jumping out to shake a fist at little kids and yelling, "Get off my lawn!".

I had to go see my lawyer in the King West & Dufferin area. I got there early so wandered around the neighbourhood. It was hot! 28-30 degrees. I headed east on Dufferin, past Lamport Stadium where a soccer team was running drills and looked like they might melt....or stroke out. Then I was into the hipified, 30-something haven of Liberty Village. Not so different from home, with lots of interesting shops, galleries & cafes and people who looked like me (or at least like me 25 years ago). I liked it here and was completely in my element.

Turning west, I crossed over Dufferin and headed into the McDonald's on the corner to use the washroom. It's completely different on the west side. Seedy, dirty strip plazas with quikky marts and cheque cashing services. In the washroom, there was a cleaning woman in heavy leather gloves carrying garbage bags from stall to stall, emptying those hygienic garbage disposal thingies you see in some places. She had them stacked on the toilets and advised me to not touch them or brush against the garbage bags already stacked along the wall. I was like, "Of course. Not a problem" but must have a had a weirded-out look on my face. She shook one of the bags. It made a plasticky, rattling sound and she said, "Yeah, not ladies paper products. These are all needles."
Apparently there's a bad drug problem in the area but the owner of this McD's won't admit it & won't hire a proper bio-hazard/needle removal company to deal with the junk. And since the employees aren't paid enough to patrol the bathrooms, it falls to the regular cleaner to deal with the fallout. She volunteers at some drug centre, she said, so is used to it.

She also filled me in on this anti-drug fun fact: if you don't want people shooting up in your bathroom, install blue lights. The user can't find a vein. And you know what? I googled it and she's right. Apparently it's a fairly common practice in european clubs.


After that enlightening chat, it was time to meet my lawyers. I've been waffling a bit but I've decided to pursue the lawsuit. At first I was saying, "I'd hoped to live my life without getting involved in any kind of litigation" but then remembered that I've been divorced twice.
Okay then, that ship has sailed so I might as well jump in with both feet.

Somewhere along the way my life has become so comfortable that I can be unsettled by the idea of suing someone or surprised that blue lighting isn't just a trend in club decor.  Here's the point... ease and complacency make us old.

It's not that I want to trip over junkies every time I leave my house or walk into an armed robbery at my local convenience store but if your day in and out is spent in Pleasantville, you become fearful of the possibility. And the network news does it's best to reinforce the impression that this is exactly what will happen if you step outside of your bubble. As time goes on, the bubble gets smaller and smaller until...well, see above about peeking out from behind your curtains.