It’s no coincidence that we’re moving, again, as the anniversary nears. The plan was always to rent a place here for the first year, scope out the neighborhoods, and then commit. Kelly and I were both so unfamiliar with Toronto that to do anything else seemed nutty beyond words.
(Though jumping in without a clue is how we chose our Vancouver neighborhood, also sight unseen, and that worked out.)
Our soon to be former apartment is coming to be known as “the King Street place” or variations thereon. We haven’t been here long enough to come to dislike much about it. It doesn’t have a great layout, but it is serviceable, bright, and all-new–which means it’s in great repair. It was a good enough place to land and it helped me refine my idea of what I want in a tiny place: a bedroom door that closes, for example, and a real separation between our living room and my office. No yawning distance between bedroom and bathroom.
The new place, Dua Central, definitely has those features.
I would be really happy if the King Street overlords would turn on our pretty, pretty fountain sometime before we leave. I’d like to see it once more from our second floor balcony. I’m not holding my breath, though.
Poor Rumble has no idea what’s about to hit him.