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The moving truck

As my vacations days were coming to the end, I asked my husband if he could take our daughter out to the park or for a walk. He said he did not mind. I needed to have them gone for a few hours because I wanted to finish two of my paintings. I would have not been able to do it with my princess running around, or bugging me each couple of minutes, asking for various things.

I had hung on the wall for more than two months and I wanted them finished. I had been staring at them for quite some time, trying to figure it out how to redo certain things. I had to correct the nose for my “Mischievous eyes” painting and the other needed a bit of work on the details. Somehow I was not happy with the colors I had used for the necklace and I had to try different shades.

Once my husband and my princess went out of the house, I grabbed my coffee and went to my studio. I opened my wooden case for my colors and chose cadmium white and umber. I turned towards my easel and realized that I was missing the most important thing: the canvas. I left the studio and went to my bedroom in order to retrieve them. I had placed them there, as a reminder that I had to finish them.

On my way upstairs, I had the doorbell ringing. I was surprised because I wasn’t expecting any company. I went to the door and opened it. In front of me there was big black man, holding a paper in his left hand. He greeted me and said that he was working for a Montreal moving company. I was speechless for a few seconds. 

The confused expression on my face lead him to the conclusion that he had the wrong house. Before I said anything, he apologized and went back to his truck, where he talked something with his co-worker. 

I went back inside and closed the door. I had no time to waste. I had to be done with my artwork before my husband and the princess came back home. From my bedroom window, I noticed that the same moving van parked across the street. The black man was ringing on Mrs. Donnell door. Poor guy, he definitely had the wrong address. As far as I knew, no one played or owned a piano on our street.

 

The author:

author

Barbara Johnson is a Ontario businesswoman, speaker and blogger specializing in social networking strategies. She holds a Master of Science in ECommerce from the University of Toronto.