Sad clown. You can’t tell by this photo, but there was a teardrop painted on my face.
Blue-faced witch because the face paint packaging was labelled green when it was in fact blue.
Maggie was more surprised than she should have been when I revealed that I’d once been a cheerleader. We’d spotted zombie cheerleaders walking down the driveway of a mansion to collect their fun-sized treats when I made this revelation. I meant I’d been a cheerleader for Halloween.
You can be anything for Halloween, except for someone else’s culture.
Sadly, my costume this year was unrecognizable to all but one person. No wonder nobody could guess what I was making based on the photo in the previous blog post.
Ever since switching on the heating in my place, I still found myself asking the question, “Is it just me, or is it freezing in here?”
This gadget is a digital thermometer/hygrometer. So far, the answer has been, “It’s just you.”
I purchased it not for the daily reminder that I am reptilian but because I wondered whether I was having trouble falling asleep with how dry the air had gotten since switching on the heat. It doesn’t help that the baseboard heater in my bedroom is right behind my headboard. Imagine waking up repeatedly feeling like this:
Tuesday, rather than enjoying a sweltering session grasping at plastic holds at the bouldering gym as planned, I found myself lying on my back under the kitchen sink living out my plumber fantasy. Remember when I successfully removed the p-trap to unsuccessfully retrieve a pair of body jewelry that I had dropped down the drain? If not, there’s a blog post about that.
This time my landlady requested that I grope for some pipes through a hole in the wall: a poorly placed access hole that did not line up with this purported handle. Also, being trapped under the p-trap meant I couldn’t peer inside the hole.
Do you see the valve? No. The answer is no. But, when your landlady, who is renting out a suite to you for much less than the market rate, asks you to stick your hand in a hole in the wall, you do it.
Weather.com put out a special weather statement for Victoria this weekend: A Father’s Day Edition heatwave. A lot of sweaty daddies out there today. I was hot but not bothered. I believe the temperature peaked at 27° C, which is small potatoes compared to a regular Montréal summer day, but hot potatoes nonetheless. I especially enjoy not having to pack extra clothes as if I were about to embark on an Arctic expedition when I go for a spin around town on my bike.
Here’s another one for my ever-growing list of pet peeves: I get annoyed when fellow Canadians insist that not all of Canada is cold. Victoria may have Canada’s warmest winters, but… an average low of 3° C is hardly balmy. And it’s very wet. Try getting around the city soaked to the bone in 3° C weather and tell me that it’s a comfortable temperature.
Also, I spent two winters in Calgary and four in Montréal: Not as cold ≠ warm. I will fight you on this while wearing mitts and baffled down slippers.
Furthermore, Victorians have a nickname for June: Junuary. Some days so far this month have required a sweatshirt and pants, evidence that Victoria isn’t all that warm.
Ah, yes, welcome to squaremeat.com, where the hot topic is cold weather.
So far this month, anytime the sun’s still shining after my workday ends, I’ve gone for a ride. Here’s my latest accomplishment: