Dirty socks and an day of monologues
Hard to believe that the laundry room has been in service all afternoon. Where do all these dirty socks come from? How many shirts does it take to get someone through a week at school and play? Even with the “cold water cycle” that the major soap manufacturers are now recommending, I figure my carbon footprint is big as a Sasquatch right now. Good thing I don’t have to stand down by the riverbank, beating cloth on the rocks.
The family has noted that our electrical use dropped, again this year. I’m too lazy to try capturing graphics from the utility website, but those programmable thermostats are worth every cent we spent to have them installed. Good training for life after peak oil, I guess. The CBC is now reporting that our beloved oil sands projects will soon outpace all the volcanoes on the planet in terms of greenhouse gas production. Scary thought, if their figures are true. First of all, who has the nasty job of measuring such things? How much oil is really recovered from a handful of sticky sand? Is the energy sufficient to wash a few loads of laundry? Just checking.
The show of words is over, up on the Plains. Enough commentary in the various media outlets to outbalance all the carefully chosen texts, read by a motley crew of actors, activists and plain old gentry (descendents of Montcalm and Wolfe). Although the government had enough sense to stay away, those assembled enjoyed listening to twenty-four hours of invective and reminiscence. We even watched from afar, thanks to the local cable channel which lives for new (free) content.
