Day 158: Greyson's Accident

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 158: Greyson's Accident

It is generally accepted that the parents of a kitten are a male and female cat. Yet in Greyson’s case, I have serious doubts. Judging by his look and behavior, I’ve come to think that his father might be a squirrel.

Not only does Greyson have the coloring of a black squirrel, but he has a really big bushy tail, and he acts like a squirrel. He runs like one, he jumps on walls and door frames, and hides things. Now wouldn’t you say those are all the characteristics of a squirrel?

In addition, Greyson is a rather naughty kitten. This morning he pulled a stunt that we won’t forget in a hurry.

For the longest time, we had dark colored carpets. They were either red with flowers or dark green with flowers or something similar. Nothing ever happened to those carpets, no spills of any kind. Now that we have a new cream-colored lounge suite, I wanted a cream colored carpet under the coffee table and would you believe it … the carpet is not even a week old and … you guessed it, something happened.

I recently changed the coffee table decoration from a silk flower arrangement to a Val St. Lambert crystal tray. I inherited this tray from my folks, but for the longest time didn’t dare to put the tray on the table. It’s an expensive piece and should it break … well, anyone who knows crystal knows that crystal doesn’t just break, it shatters in a million pieces.

With the arrival of the new lounge and carpet though, the orange flowers clashed with the pink flowers in the carpet, and so I brought out the crystal tray, washed it and placed it on the coffee table. Charlotte, Holly, and Halley ignored the tray, but Greyson was fascinated by it. Every chance he got he jumped on the table, walked up to the tray and stared at his reflection.

And so it happened. This morning he was once again admiring himself in the tray, for some reason got spooked, one of his claws got stuck in the lace runner under the tray, and the next moment a coffee cup that was standing on the table now lay on the beige carpet … leaving a big coffee stain.

Fortunately, I’ve read enough about stain removal that I knew what to do. I blotted up the coffee and followed up with soda water. From what I can see most of the stain is gone. Someone suggested hairspray or peroxide to remove any last traces of the stain, but I have neither hairspray nor peroxide. But thank you Vicat F. and Bunny A.

As for Greyson … he knew he’d done something wrong and fled to my bedroom. It took hours before he ventured back into the living room and was rather careful about it. Not that he had anything to worry about, it was, after all, an accident and he was quickly forgiven.

Do you like the stories? 

Maybe you will like one of my books.

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Day 39: Coffee or tea?

My Project: 365 Creative Writing Prompts

Day 39: Coffee or tea?

Some people can’t function in the morning before they’ve had their first cup of coffee or tea. They are irritable, grouchy and altogether not properly awake. While some shower and get themselves ready when getting out of bed, other head straight for the kitchen.

While I appreciate a good cup of coffee too, I’m not as bad as some. I can wait until I’m at work. I usually first switch my computer on, see if there’s anything urgent, and then make my way to the nearest coffee shop.

However, last week there was a snag in my usual routine. When I arrived at my favorite coffee shop, I was told that they were all out of decaf coffee. Oh no, now that was bad news. While I’m perfectly capable of going without coffee for a short period of time, having no coffee all day is nothing short of a disaster.

There was only one thing for it … look for another coffee shop. I got directed to one further down the street. So, I walked, and I walked, and I walked some more. I finally arrived at the said coffee shop, and while it is part of a large chain in Canada, the shop itself was relatively small and packed with customers.

I queued for no less than 20 minutes and hoped that they too wouldn’t be out of decaf or this whole ordeal would have been for nothing. Fortunately, they had plenty of decaf coffee to which I added a warm, crispy croissant.

By the time I got back to the office, the croissant was cold and my decaf coffee had noticeably cooled, but okay, it was better than nothing.

The following day it was cold and rainy and I didn’t feel like walking all the way to the far-away coffee shop, but I knew there was a new place up the street.

The coffee shop was unlike any other. Instead of being furnished with small tables, comfortable chairs and couches, this shop had four long wooden tables, surrounded by matching chairs. A young crowd was sitting side by side, working on their laptops or holding a tablet.

A glance at the sandwiches and pastries display cabinet told me this place wasn’t cheap. There was something about the foot-long sandwiches, holding ham, cheese or chicken in combination with lettuce and tomato that screamed, expensive! The fact that none of the goods held a price tag was also a dead giveaway that this place was for people with deep pockets. Just how deep I would have to reach into my pocket I was about to find out.

When I asked for a small decaf coffee and a croissant, the total came to $6,25.

“How much?” I asked because I thought I misheard.

“$6,25,” the girl repeated. “Would you like the receipt?”

“Yes,” I said. 

Usually, I’m not interested in a receipt, but this time I wanted to see how much the coffee and how the croissant cost. As it turned out the coffee was $3,75 and the croissant was $2.50. Good Lord, $3,75 for a small coffee! At my usual place, I get an extra-large coffee for that price. And $2,50 for a croissant, where did this croissant come from … France?

Needless to say, this coffee shop was for emergencies only.

It's really is beyond me why companies don’t stock more of decaf coffee or some avoid it altogether. At my workplace, they have no less than 10 different coffees, 12 different teas, hot chocolate and an espresso machine but no decaf coffee. Yet when decaf is available, it’s the first type of coffee that is depleted.

As for tea … I enjoy a cup of tea almost as much as a cup of coffee, but because I can only drink decaf tea, my choice is limited. I have to stick to fruity teas or if I can find it Earl Grey Decaf. So, all in all, is there a certain decaf discrimination?

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The homeless urinate in chairs at Timothy's

Toronto residents, or those visiting Toronto, might want to think twice before taking a seat at Timothy’s coffee shop at 40 Dundas Street West, Toronto, Ontario.

For the longest time, Timothy’s was my regular lunchtime spot. I would order a coffee or tea and then settle down in one of the comfy armchairs to read my book. That routine changed when I visited Timothy’s on February 25th.
As soon as I sat down in one of the armchairs I felt a distinct wetness. When I got up I noticed a huge stain in the chair, with the distinct smell of urine. OMG someone had peed in this chair!

When I approached the lady serving coffee at the time and pointed out the soiled chair, she was not particularly concerned. “A homeless man was sitting there earlier,” she said. “Maybe he had an accident.”
Maybe he had an accident? That was it? She wasn’t going to do anything!
Well if she wasn’t, I was.
Not yelling, but not keeping my voice down either, I informed her that it is unsanitary to have a soiled chair standing around for people to sit in. How many people before me had sat in that chair, and how many would take a seat in it after me?

“What do you want me to do?” the waitress asked. “I can’t turn the homeless away. It’s cold outside”
While I am most sympathetic with the homeless, I draw the line where they think they can relieve themselves anywhere it is convenient.
The building houses a huge food court at basement level, offering coffee, tea and all kinds of breakfast. What’s wrong with the homeless sitting there?
Why do they have to sit in coffee shops? And since when is peeing in chairs permitted?

I flew out of the coffee shop and went straight to Giliani, a ladies clothing boutique.
I couldn’t wait to get out of my soiled pants and into a fresh one.
I was going to buy new pants and Timothy’s was going to pay for it.

To cut a long story short … first Timothy’s management offered me a free cup of coffee.
They upgraded that suggestion with the offer to have my soiled pants dry cleaned.
I didn’t budge though, I had been ‘forced’ to buy a new pants, and I wanted them to reimburse me for that.
Nothing more, nothing less.

And I got it. After contacting Timothy’s head office with an official complaint, they offered to pay for my new pants.
There that took care of that.
While I am satisfied with the outcome of this incident, I am dissatisfied and concerned with how Timothy’s treated my complaint.
The soiled chair remained standing in the coffee shop, and is still there.

If you happen to visit Timothy’s coffee shop at 40 Dundas Street West, Toronto, Ontario, and you take a seat in one of their chairs, you might just be sitting in the urine chair. Could there be more than one?

On the war path

I did it! I finally did it! I threw caution to the wind today and approached a man.

It happened during lunchtime. I had installed myself with my book and my cup of tea in one of the deep armchairs at Timothy’s coffee shop when suddenly ... I heard someone sniffing. A loud, truly disgusting sniff.
I looked around. Who was it?

Was it one of the Asian youngsters at the next table on my right? No, they were too busy talking. Then again, some people can talk and sniff at the same time.

Was it the tourist at the next table on my left? In his jeans and checkered shirt he looked like the type that couldn’t be bothered to blow his nose.

Was it the distinguishing looking gentleman two tables down? No, surely not. He was impeccable dressed, sporting an expensive looking watch and was reading a hardcover book on finance. Surely he could afford a handkerchief and wouldn’t be so rude as to pull up his nose.

Was it the lady by the counter? She had just ordered a cup of coffee and a muffin. With a handbag clutched under her right arm and both hands full she didn’t exactly have a hand to spare to blow her nose. Was she the sniffer?

As she passed me I heard the disgusting sniff again. Was it her? No, definitely not, the sniff had come from further away.
For the next few seconds I was on high alert, looking and listening at the same time. At the next sniff, a double sniff it was, I identified the sniffer ... the distinguished looking gentleman.

I couldn’t believe it. He looked so perfect, from his impeccable haircut, down to his beautifully tailored suit and his polished leather shoes. How could he be so ... so ... sloppy not to carry a handkerchief or at least some paper tissues!

I sat there, fuming, steam practically coming out of my ears. Was I gonna have to put up with this ear torture for the next hour? Was my hour of quiet reading gonna be ruined by this bozo? No, it was not. I was gonna say something. I was gonna do something. But what? I didn’t exactly want to cause a scene or embarrass him (and me in the process).

At the next sniff I threw caution to the wind, grabbed one of my travel pack tissues, got up and walked over to his table. My heart was hammering in my chest and my mouth was badly in need of a swig of tea. What if he said ‘I don’t need a tissue’ or ‘Who do you think you are approaching me?’ or anything to that effect.

Having arrived at his table I deposited the tissue next to his coffee and said “Perhaps you would like one of these”. I was perfectly polite, I didn’t look at him and I immediately walked away.

He didn’t say anything, but by the time I got back to my table he was blowing his nose. No more sniffing. Aaaah, peace and quiet at last.

Let’s hope that Mr. Distinguished learned his lesson and will carry some tissues from now on.
Me, I was ever so proud of myself, I had done it, I had finally done it. I had not put up with the sniffing and done something about it. Will I do it again? You bet, from now on if anyone in my vicinity starts sniffing they’re gonna get it ... a tissue that is.

It might be a good idea to buy stocks in Kleenex as there are a lot of sniffers in and around Toronto.