Person in Black Pants and Black Shoes Sitting on Brown Wooden Chair talking to female therapist opposite him

Opening Up to Therapy While There’s Still Time

In Roz Weston’s raw and intimate memoir, A Little Bit Broken, he writes about his first experience with therapy. (I don’t know whether he had more experiences. I’m still reading the book.) Tiny spoiler alert: Roz clearly needed therapy but didn’t return after one session. I get it. I didn’t go back after my first session either. My mom wouldn’t let me.

A green circle with a white doodle of a man putting an item into a bin

The Recycling Dilemma

I’ll admit it. I’m one of those people who judges a blue box if I walk past and notice non-recyclables in it. I study recycling rules like I’m cramming for the finals. And it looks like some of my neighbours are just winging it and hoping to pass. But it’s really not all their fault.

Small blue cottage in Port Stanley with a wooden deck out front and green chairs on it. The cottage has an orange door.

Cottage Life

My back yard in the north Toronto neighbourhood of Willowdale was the closest thing to a cottage that I ever owned. It was private, fenced in, surrounded by cedars. I could enjoy the inground pool without feeling watched. On long weekends, it felt like the entire city emptied and headed for cottage country. I only had to open a sliding door to get there.