Last night, I wrapped up my first week in Toronto alone and in tears in my kitchen, plucking tiny slivers of glass from my fingers.
It had been a long day. I had made the trek out to IKEA in Etobicoke to pick up the essentials for my new place; since I took a bus to get there, I arranged to have my purchases delivered to my house later that day. After spending the rest of the day scrubbing and organizing the kitchen, I answered the door to two deliverymen, who dropped off my things and sped away to complete the rest of their route.
Once they had left, I picked up the package containing a side-table with a glass top, and it sounded like it was full of gravel. Not a good sign. Sure enough, as I opened the box, millions of glass shards spilled out–several lodging themselves into my fingers and palms…
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