Leaving tracks in the fields
Some jobs are best handled one bit at a time. Or, in the case of an unexpected snowfall, one shovel full. This afternoon, while the dog watched from a window, I took up my shovel, and cleared the deck. Had to be done.
The latest “what will happen?” game involves getting a retired politician out of the office. Or house. Someone posted a theoretical game plan for the White House, come January 20th; turn off the electricity, water and heat. Cut the Internet access. Reject any incoming fast food orders. Wait for things to unfold “as they should”. Might not be necessary. Someone else found a flight plan for a large jet to go from somewhere to an airport in Scotland, on January 19th. Guess we’ll have to wait for the next episode of our favourite thriller-reality TV series. Less than three weeks. Get the popcorn provisions ready.
Meanwhile, some provincial politicians (in AB) have learned that there are good moments and bad moments to visit Hawaii.
Although I have no intention to buy into the fever, our local market for snow machines is up, substantially. Those who would usually waste their extra cash in snowbird territory are stuck here, and are exercising their right to annoy the neighbours, bigly. What better to prove you have time and money than to cut a trail through the neighbours’ fields, leaving behind your mark. Not as cool as Zorro, but there only two ways to remove the traces: snowstorm or spring thaw. I mean, one could always don snowshoes, but the snarl of a ‘Cat is much more satisfying.
