This morning, a rarity when I’m rushed trying to find something to wear to work, I have Serena Ryder’s “What I wouldn’t do” song stuck inside my money maker:

If you should fall to pieces.                                

You know I’ll pick them up.                          

There are so many reasons.                              

I’m never going to get enough.                          

 If you should leave this country.                      

You know I’ll come to you.                        

Because you always love me.                            

Oh what I wouldn’t do.                                        

Oh what I wouldn’t do…

The guitar chords of this song become my speedy soundtrack, as I throw around clothes, socks, shoes, accessories and expletives, trying to find something quasi-presentable.

The struggle was real.

I made it on the 6:18 train with mere minutes to spare.

If the train left like its supposed to at 6:30, then I suppose I’d be several more minutes early.

I don’t want this post to become about commuting strife just yet, so I’ll save my ignorant commentary for just a while longer.

Oh what I wouldn’t do…                                               

Oh what I wouldn’t do…

These lyrics and the guitar taunt me.

I blow past the Customer Service Ambassador, give him the best glare I can muster, find my way to train cabin 2579, and plop myself aboard my big green chariot.

Nessie sounds “creakier” than usual.

I wonder, at which point this fossil of a vessel will be replaced with something less shoddily constructed.

Vessel….I’m suddenly reminded of my Grade 10 history class, and a description of Canada’s Tin Pot navy.

The Naval Service Bill was an attempt to ensure Canada had boats so we could feel better about ourselves right before the First World War.

In a sea of Cadillacs, they were K-cars.

Suddenly it all makes sense.

These trains were crafted with the same tender love and care of Canada’s Tin Pot Navy.

And the same materials.

I digress.

 

Oh what I wouldn’t do…

This song is still bopping around.

Hmm.

Yesterday, after christening my sister’s new home by streaking through it (yes that actually happened and yes I was sober) I was asked where I come up with these ideas.

I don’t think, I just do.

Most of the time these things end up as jail bait, pure amusement and a good story.

That’s why we have a blog.

As we arrive at a more disenchanting than usual Aldershot, still amused that I could be sitting in a heritage site from 1910, I wonder; what “wouldn’t” I do to be amused?

I wouldn’t attend a conference with Career Development Practitioners and introduce myself as the future President of my place of employment.

I wouldn’t have created Taco Bell food challenges.

I wouldn’t have had my G.I. Joe’s kidnap my sister’s barbies and leave torsos and ransom notes all around the house.

At a staff retreat, I wouldn’t have taken my supervisor’s mattress, locked it in her washroom then remade her bed so she wouldn’t notice until bedtime.

I wouldn’t have done the same thing to my own room and pretended there was a serial prankster on the loose just so that I wouldn’t get caught.

I wouldn’t have convinced my sister that one loonie was worth less than two shiny dimes so that I could buy more candy.

I wouldn’t admit she is two years older than me.

I wouldn’t have sang the acapella version of “That’s what friends are for” at my best friend’s wedding and had the audience sing along, complete with tambourine and sunglasses, like Stevie.

I wouldn’t have taken frozen turkeys at a Supermarket and used canned goods as pins to go bowling with my cousin at the back of the store.

I wouldn’t have driven around East Hamilton with my brother, looking for mullets and despair.

I wouldn’t have created the Hamilton theme song.

I wouldn’t host end of class parties at karaoke bars.

I wouldn’t commute.

I wouldn’t have a blog.

I wouldn’t do anything differently.

I wouldn’t currently be smiling.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

🙂