It's getting more and more difficult to drum up interesting blog topics as this blasted winter drags on. 99% of my time could be summed up as follows. "I went to work; I slept; and in between it was too freaking cold to go out so I stayed in and read/watched TV." The only advantage to this state of affairs is that I am making excellent headway through my giant book about the Russian Oligarchs. I just got past page 300 out of 500. *fist pump*
Initially I was impressed by how readable this book is, but the story has become increasingly complicated. I have to keep track of businessmen who all seem the same to me, with names like Khodorkovsky vs. Korzhakov vs. Kiselyov. The conglomerates are multisyllabic monsters, ex. Samaraneftegaz and Yuganskneftegaz. Who bribed whom to buy what at a criminally low per-share-price is a question to make one's head swim. However, it's -12 C (10 F) outside, so I may as well settle in and keep reading.
The question on my mind most mornings is how to dress for my Arctic trek to work. We're at that stage when conditions may call for knee-high boots and the Extra-Fluffy fleece under my parka, or it may be more appropriate to go for the waterproof, calf-height boots with quick-dry pants because of the possibility of being splashed by passing cars. My route to work takes me past a large (many city blocks in area) park, and the wild terrain has a tendency to sneak out past park boundaries onto the sidewalks.
There is a wind corridor that funnels a never-ending supply of drifting snow over the pedestrian walkways. It doesn't matter how many times the city sends their little Bobcat plows past that area; it's always knee-deep in snow. Consequently, as soon as the weather warms up, it becomes a trough of mud. The scariest time is when the deeper ice hasn't fully melted yet, but a river of muddy water is flowing on the surface. I can just picture myself taking one wrong step and sitting down into a freezing mud bath. That would be the worst. Fortunately it has never happened. Yet.
If it does happen, I will be sure to relate the story to you in excruciatingly embarrassing detail.
9 comments:
Have you considered getting a dog sled team to get you to work??? A convenient mode of travel and the pets will lower your blood pressure! A win win!
Ah, the winter which will not die. I'm sick of it too, Spark. VERY sick of it. But at least we can console ourselves with the knowledge it cannot -- will not -- last forever. Right? :)
Ron: If only Ken weren't allergic to dogs! Otherwise that would be my obvious choice.
DarcKnyt: I am sort of 50-50 on believing it won't last forever, at this stage.
And speaking of parkas, I had to get mine out again yesterday. Who would have thought it? After a week of warmth, the ice and snow hit for one day. Now we are back to prediction for sun and warmth for the rest of the week. It's crazy I tell you, CRAZY.
I hope that doesn't happen to you! We're having another brief cold snap - although nothing like the weather where you live, so I won't complain. :)
I love the title of this! :D That's exactly how it feels, too. The kids and I sing, "This is the Winter that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends ..."
You won't fall, Spark. I forbid it.
You're a brave soul to tackle those names! I have to ask, did you use a copy and paste feature from like a Kindle or something? If not, I salute you. Big time.
Stay warm and dry, hon! *hugs*
Granny Annie: Yep, I'm sure getting my money's worth out of my parka this year.
Lynn: So far, so good. My butt is mud-free.
Vanessa: Hey, no way, I've been singing that song too! :-) I typed those Russian names out the hard way, but I did use the book as a reference to make sure I got the spellings right.
Maybe if you had picked an easier book, winter would have ended earlier? It's staying cold so you can finish the book?
This is clearly logical.
Even down here in the mid Atlantic we had snow last Monday and may again this week. Crazy?!
Here in the UK we are just having some snow flurries, the first all year. But now, at the end of March? Come on!
Post a Comment