A diary of what I did during winter break

A short recollection of my apocalyptic-chic life

PHOTO: Nick Fewings / Unsplash

By: Carter Hemion, Peak Associate

Day One (December 17)

Dear Diary,

Today I did the laundry that’s been piling on my chair for the last two weeks while pretending I haven’t been wearing the same sweatpants with a questionable stain on the ankle for three days straight. Turns out there was a $300 textbook under those clothes that I opened maybe once. Out of sight, out of mind? Who am I kidding? The textbook’s contents were never on my mind at all.

I also prepared a sourdough starter to leave overnight! Baking bread connects me to the bloggers who share their life stories before their recipes and I almost feel less alone.

Day Two (December 18)

Dear Diary,

Making bread is much more boring than I thought it would be. It took five hours and 47 minutes for the dough to rise. I watched it rise with YouTube conspiracy videos playing in the background. Who would’ve guessed that Robert Kardashian faked his death and became Ted Cruz, who is the actual Zodiac killer? I couldn’t make this shit up.

Now I’m sitting on the floor while my bread bakes. I’ve been googling why popcorn ceilings were made. I think there’s a face in mine, right above the oven. It’s kind of creepy. Hey, Siri, what are popcorn ceilings even made of? Are they sentient?

Day Five (December 21)

Dear Diary,

Today I walked to the store to pick up some vegetable stock so I can have soup with my bread. I decided to count the layers on my onions as I learned from YouTube that the Queen may be a cannibal, and apparently Finland may not actually exist.

There were 11 and 12 layers on the ones I chopped, respectfully. 

I also discovered there’s 11 cloves in my garlic, all of which I then minced while dissociating. Now I have to find another recipe that calls for at least eight cloves of garlic. 

Note to self: never again eat a spoonful of raw garlic “just to see.” Bad idea.

Day Eight (December 24)

Dear Diary,

Today I learned the taxonomic classification of all the birds that keep landing outside. I started naming them, too. My favourite is Ted Crows, the varied thrush, because it looks like he’s wearing a little necklace. I think he has a thing for Princess Screech, the robin.

Also, I know you’re not supposed to try to psychoanalyze anyone without a degree, but I really think my cat has narcissistic personality disorder. I’m worried. Last night, she looked right at me as she dipped her paw into my cup and then smacked my Lego Tim Horton’s off the desk. I spent two and a half hours building that with “Lego House” by Ed Sheeran on repeat, and she looked so smug destroying it in two seconds. 

It’s alright, though — I’ve got garlic bread!

Day ??? (I think it’s January now but don’t quote me on that)

Dear Diary,

I made carrot, zucchini, and raisin bread. Now I’m sick of bread. At least the face in the popcorn ceiling seems to be smiling about it. 

I was going to do laundry yesterday, but then I saw Ted poop on somebody’s car windshield just after they got in and it’s the most entertaining thing I’ve seen in weeks. Then I got too distracted when four firetruck red cars drove by in a row. Is that an omen?

I have to go — I’m on the seventh season of Supernatural now and I’ve got a cat begging for my attention. Not my cat, of course — she’s since taken over my room and claimed my bed as her own. This one is just another neighbourhood cat I’ve adopted since classes got out. I’m thriving.

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