Canon's Diary

I woke up around 8 a.m. My back left molar ached. For the past couple of days, something had been stuck between my teeth and I couldn’t get it out. I didn’t yet have things like toothpicks at home, so I’d just left it alone. But this morning, the pain was bad enough that I couldn’t even eat breakfast. I had no choice but to go to the convenience store and buy some interdental brushes and toothpicks. After some care, the pain subsided a bit. It was already around 9 by then, so I finally sat down for a late breakfast. My teeth still hurt, so I went with something soft — a cup of instant noodles.

It was Saturday, May 31st. The sky was cloudy again. I heard the rumble of heavy machinery, and when I looked out the window, I saw that a building across from my apartment was being torn down. The building was almost completely gone already. Come to think of it, what used to be there? It seemed too big to have been a regular house. I’d always paid more attention to the library and the bus rotary across the street, so I had no memory of what stood on this side. I checked on Google Maps using aerial view, and saw that it had been a large old residence with a brown tile roof. Apparently, it really was someone’s home.

I didn’t have anything in particular planned for today. With time on my hands, I decided to make coffee from beans. The grinder I bought on Amazon was a cheap one, around 2,000 yen. I poured in the beans I’d picked up at the supermarket, and as they were ground, a rich aroma filled the air. I used the grounds in my coffee machine and brewed a cup. Hmm. Smooth and mild, not too distinctive. Just the small act of grinding the beans made the morning feel a bit more luxurious. It felt like I’d treated myself to something special.

Before noon, I planned to go to the supermarket to buy some grated parmesan cheese and non-alcoholic drinks. I had a tennis lesson scheduled for the evening. Since I still had some bacon and spinach left, I thought I’d try making carbonara tonight. Lately, I’ve been getting leg cramps after my lessons, so I figured I’d load up on carbs beforehand.

For lunch, I finished up some cabbage soup I’d made in advance. With nothing else urgent to do, I vacuumed the room. I figured I’d leave the laundry for tomorrow. My closet still holds a mountain of collapsed cardboard boxes from the move. The next recycling day is Thursday, so until then, the plastic storage bins remain out in the room.

Around 2 p.m., I started feeling a bit idle. The construction noise was starting to get to me too, so I searched for a nearby sporting goods store. I found a big shopping mall about 10 minutes west of my apartment by motorbike. I changed into jeans, grabbed my helmet, and hurried to the bike parking area. Navigating the residential and shopping streets required caution — there are fast bicycles and kids darting out here and there. I basically rode at a crawl the whole way.

The sporting goods store was huge — like a gymnasium — and I was drawn straight to the shelves of tennis rackets. They seemed to have just about everything. The mall also had a large supermarket, which was super convenient. I bought a Nike T-shirt and shorts at the sports store, then picked up a retort curry and soup pasta at the supermarket — both recommended by my wife. I also got a kitchen timer I’d been wanting for cooking.

Back home, I set about making carbonara. I boiled the pasta and, during the 7-minute cook time, fried bacon in oil, seasoning it with salt and pepper until it was crisp. I cracked an egg into a bowl, added two tablespoons of parmesan cheese, and adjusted the flavor with black pepper. Hmm. It takes more than I expected to really bring out the flavor. Once the pasta was done, I added it to the now-cool pan and mixed it with the egg and cheese sauce. Thanks to the residual heat, the egg didn’t curdle. I had it with tomato soup and a non-alcoholic sparkling wine. This time, it turned out pretty well.

At 8 p.m., after dinner and once my stomach had settled, I hopped on my bike and headed out for my tennis lesson. It was a 90-minute session with just three students. I was out of breath and sweating hard. My body still hasn’t recovered from the break I took. I’ll review today’s practice and try again tomorrow. I didn’t win any points in the game-style drills, which left me a bit deflated. I took a shower and headed home.

Before I knew it, it was 10 p.m. Now I’m relaxing in my room with a non-alcoholic lemon sour. My father’s funeral had left me feeling detached from reality, but at last — albeit slowly — my new life in Osaka seems to be getting underway. Oddly enough, it feels a bit like I’m reliving my student days. Maybe keeping this journal is helping ease the loneliness of living alone. I’d meant to use this diary to talk about the past, but somehow… it still doesn’t feel like the right time. That’s the sense I get.