Author: Christine Elias

It’s hot in the condo. The brand new heat/cool pump is a piece of junk. The repair guys came, fiddled and said they had to bring it to the shop. They got it working (a term I use loosely in this situation) temporarily (it was humming) but it was not cooling. It’s working so poorly I think the whirring motor is actually heating the place.

So today they put a new one in — at least they said they did. It is still hot in here.

Thank goodness this has been a cool summer. But still, this sucks.

Quite a few things suck actually in the condo (elevator noise is another huge problem) and I have been polite but firm in raising the issues with the developer.

And so far the developer has not replied to two letters sent by registered mail. Two letters in over two months — that’s obscene.

Now I’m going to wait a bit more (maybe until after our summer holidays and maybe after I consult with our lawyer) then I’m going to unleash a campaign like only a very disgruntled PR person can. I have the skills.

The balcony in this excuse for a luxury condo faces King Street. And it is in full view of perhaps one of the busiest intersections in Toronto. I know how to order banners — I do stuff like that for a living.

There will be a banner on my balcony expressing my extreme displeasure with the developer in question.

Plus there will be an online campaign. I can do that, too.

Maybe nothing will happen but it will make me feel better. But I have a feeling a 10″ x 6″ banner will get some attention.

I ordered some lemon grilled salmon with vegetables for lunch today. It was at a chain place and the salmon was a bit dry which was a bit disappointing but not shocking. The vegetables, however did surprise me.

As a regular eater of the four food groups, I could identify broccoli and peppers but most of the plate was covered in a strange light coloured vegetable product that I could not identify. I could tell it was a root vegetable but it was like nothing I have ever tasted before. In fact, the veg in question didn’t taste like much at all. It was very mild. Boring really not to mention a bit mushy.

Perplexed, I asked the waitress and she told me it the mysterious vegetables were California carrots.

California carrots my ass, so I emailed my friend K. — K. knows food. (She and her husband K. are the only people I have ever met who made a fish dish T. enjoyed — I think the bacon had something to do with it. But I digress.)

Well, K. didn’t know and she told me that when she googled it something rather vulgar came up.

When I got home I looked it up myself. Turns out a California carrot is just a yellow carrot. Carrots come in all different colours — who knew!

All this means for me in the grand scheme of things is that I have discovered another vegetable I can do without.

By way the way, the carrot thing was the high point of my day but T. won first place in a poker tournament — the lunch was celebratory in nature. I placed 17th (out of 25 players) if you’re curious.