Tie down the cat
The first real payload of winter weather has come and (not) gone. I was home, in time; lifting the plowdrop of wet blobs reminds me why summer is so much cooler, if you will. No forced time off from work, but the bus was overfull and overslow this morning. All the sardines were peaceful, and within months we’ll have it all figured out. Months. I’m counting them.
On the other side of the bedspread, a receipt of the official notice of retirement. Addressed to another house, but the neighbour knew the name. I realize that “everybody is doing the best job they can”; shouldn’t a secretary verify that the typing of an address into a form letter is completed without major error? Professional pride, if nothing else.
Looks like the local media haven’t accepted the sale of broadcast rights of the hockey cash cow to someone else. Let’s face it; when you are willing to put five billion dollars up against the right to stream some “to be played at a future time” hockey games, you either love the sport or see an excellent investment opportunity. Pity that the rest of us put up with all the noise. OK, not me, but many others. The kind that get all goose0-bumpie when they hear the hockey theme song (which wasn’t part of the deal).
On national radio, I heard a weather forecast for the Island. In for some breezy times this evening. The advice was to “Tie down the cat”. I’d like to see that one. If you have pictures, please, post them.
