Today’s forecast from Environment Canada includes a special weather statement, which starts as follows:
An Alberta clipper will spread snow from west to east across southern Ontario this morning.
I understand the need for everyone to feel special, everyone likes to be special to someone. I’m starting to believe however that meteorologists might need some “special” attention in the emotional care department, perhaps a hug. They seem especially attention starved these days, since every little bit of winter has a nifty news worthy name attached to it, and “Special Weather Statements” happen so often they really don’t feel that special any more.
While it sure sounds snazzy, I and (I feel certain that) most of the general public doesn’t know what that is. I does seem to be a real thing, which you can find for yourself. But I suggest that declaring that winter just being winter as “special” doesn’t really make me care any more.
Well, at least until Tuesday when that Saskatchewan Sideburn rolls in, then woe betide the entire Eastern provinces, indeed civilization, nay, mankind as we know it.
Have you ever just decided that you just finally had it? You are sitting there, just so fed up with this shit that it’s like bile rising in your throat. There’s no way you can take it any longer, you are compelled to do something about it. If you don’t do something, you might even scream your head off? Yeah. Nikki apparently had happen that today. Well, that’s the only explanation I can come up with, anyway.
I’m sitting in the office at home, working away (in case anyone from work reads this, although the chances of that are slim based on my blog stats), when I hear something like the following from way down the hall in the living room.
Nikki: “Yes? Oh, yes, sure. It’s quite old. Yes, the drawers come out. It needs a little fixing, the leg is a little separated.”
At this point, I’m starting to clue into what is happening, and I start to listen a little more intently.
Nikki: “…you can come today and have a look. Oh sure, how about $50? Sounds good! See you then.”
At which point I squawked from the office: IT’S STILL GOT MY CLOTHES IN IT!
Yeah, Nikki sold my dresser today without really informing me that it would happen. She laughed pretty hard at that point.
Aaand it’s gone. Before I could type 200 words about it. I’m now living out of a garbage bag, people.
Just in case you aren’t “with” the Twitters like those darn kids are, I have to say that few accounts are just as awesome as We Rate Dogs. I would explain what it’s all about, but it kinda does what it says on the label: they rate dogs. Witness….
This is Timison. He just told an awful joke but is still hanging on to the hope that you’ll laugh with him. 10/10 pic.twitter.com/s2yYuHabWl
Yeah, they are all pretty much like that. The pictures of dogs (and sometimes other things) wouldn’t be enough to be consistently interesting, but the humour is bang on. Inside jokes abound, and despite being (wait for it) a one-trick pony, they have been at it a year now and there doesn’t seem to be much chance of it all slowing down. They’re good dogs, Brent.
Nikki and I took some time this morning to go and visit a local coffee shop (not a Starbucks!) and man, what a treat it was. The Grounds Cafe is just around the corner from us, and man is it an awesome coffee shop. They serve local coffee, have fantastic bagels and cream cheese, free wifi, lots of room for chatting, what’s not to love?