Another Day in the Life....

So, you've heard this before, but seriously, B hardly ever went over to P's place to hang out, for ages it seems, and recently, perhaps once a month or maybe twice a month, there has been a reconnection. Coinciding with the hockey season, which isn't part of B's life or interests, but is part of P's, the life-long friend, and it calls for company, apparently. So the upshot is that I've a night on my own with the beasties and blogland. Which is fine by me. Romantic nights with the world covered in a winter wonderland are not uppermost on my mind as I am feeling tired and cranky.

Not that I'm not appreciative. Don't get me wrong. Since mum left B has reclaimed the kitchen and cooks every other day, almost, at least. He's become rather anal about dishes. Who are you and what have you done with my spouse?! I love it. I compete with him by trying to get on top of the laundry, but fail miserably, most of the time...

We are trying to conserve gas, which can go up to $1.20 a litre, and I know they pay way more than that in Europe, but dammit, we have our own wells for Christ sake, so this isn't on.... and having the luxury of the use of my mother's ancient Toyota 4WD station wagon, we've opted for using that, because it will go through any snow or weather, and so B drives me to work and picks me up. I don't trust my geriatric Buick in the newly fallen snow nor my own snow-driving skills. Especially as the barometric pressure swings and the roads become iced over. We've had more snow this winter, since I moved here, and okay, its only been 4 1/2 years, but that's still a baseline to make the eyes go 'pop' at the amount of snow that fell in the last few days.

Jeeze. I'm from Ontario. This is child's-play to me. Or so I think it should be, but mark my words. Snow that falls at sea level is different that any other snow.

Okay, I'm being a drama queen... Whatever. I reserve that right... always.

I'm being vibed-out by someone at work who was formerly kind, helpful and protective. Actually he's been an arse and quite rude. To the point that I've been stranded with customers needing assistance and have not known where to turn to help them. I don't know what to make of it. I think my feelings are a bit hurt. I'm just way too sensitive... its made things a bit icky. I have asked him questions and asked for assistance (which is his job) and been ignored for two days. Shit-le-merde. I totally do not understand what is going on.

Outside it is cold. Not like Ontario cold with a wind-chill factors of minus 27 or 35, but cold to my western adjusted sensibilities... It is only minus 6 or so... That's Celsius for our cousins to the south, and that means is it minus 32 Fahrenheit....something. Freezing, in other words. WAY TOO COLD. Okay go ahead and laugh, but frankly I hate the cold and am obsessed by the weather. All year round. Read my blog and get used to it.

For once the cats wont go outside to do their business. We have icicles and 8 inches of snow; pure and white on the railings of the deck, and on the roads;the trees are all weighed down with their burden of winter wonderland. Fir and Cedar and Balsam, all the conifers are a Christmas trees in a belated white Christmas. Heavy laden. I worry about the hydro lines, frankly. What this means is power outages, again. We ourselves have been lucky so far.

Meanwhile, with B away, Willy has once again gone on walkabout, the little terror. With the acute sensory apparatus of the psychic canine, he determines that his 'very own human' is not here tonight, and he's simply absconded. Bloody hell. Elvis has left the building...again. Plus ca change, plus c'est le meme chose.

Little bugger. I am now in my pyjamas and soft cushy socks, and settled for the night and I am DAMNED if I will go intrepidly into that good night, bundling up with inadequate insulation, to look for a stubborn errant dawg. Thick long johns, or leggings, as you please. Woolen sweaters, the extra socks to combat the holes in boots, the over-coat, the hats and scarf and gloves. Dammit. WHY DOES HE DO THIS TO ME?!

I have on my new jammies, which mum gave me for Christmas. Not that you really want to know, but they are a soft light blue with sparkled metallic threads throughout in a criss-cross pattern. Flannel. Lovely and soft and comfy. Not quite sexy, but nice. Attractive flannels, if there is such a thing. I will damned well not go out into a freezing night of utter cold and arctic snow to look for an errant stubborn, MIA dawg.

How can I be so hard-hearted and why do I say that, I hear you ask? Experience, that's why. Within the hour, I'll have you a bet, he'll be at the gate looking all bashful, forsaken, shamefaced and forlorn, not to mention freezing cold, as though I had bloody-well deliberately abandoned him on an arctic ice floe. As though he had a very good reason to abscond, and just looking me in the eye would let me know...IT WAS MY FAULT.

B's away. William goes on walkabout. You can bank in it. He'll be back when he wants to come back.

Right, okay, you know me too well. If W doesnt turn up soon you know I will be strapping on the boots and over-coat to look for him.... in my gum boots with the holes that will let in the snow and freeze my feet in a wet misery. Little rat-bastard. God love him, if anything happened to him I dont know what I'd do.

Meanwhile...hope all is well with all of you in Blogland.

Sleep well my Chickadees.... :) (Even as I am tramping though the snowy woods looking for a dawg who thinks he might hunt deer, or something, and at his age, ha-bloody-ha - on a Godforsaken, freezing-arse cold night - but who actually knows better... or damned well should!)

Huh!