I'm thankful for a great landlord and my High Park flat, but it's time to say goodbye to Toronto
“I’ve got news,” Ian says.
We’re selling the house.”
Not words a renter wants to hear, especially now. Still, I put on a brave face because my landlord is one of my closest friends.
“That’s … great?”
Ian’s wife Marion is also on the phone. At least they didn’t just text me.
“What will you do?”
I knew this was coming. But it’s like death — we all know we’re going to die, we just don’t think it’s going to be that day.
“I’ll figure it out.” Then from the heart it comes. “I’m happy for you guys.”
That same heart is wobbling. Even though the news registers like 100 volts, I know they’re doing right for themselves. It’s been a long time coming.
However, when a tenant lives in the same apartment for 24 years, it’s easy to get comfortable. I was comfortable, but not too comfortable. I had to haul my duffle bag of unmentionables to the laundromat every week, wash dishes by hand and listen to my upstairs and downstairs neighbours live their lives. Intimately live their …
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