In other news, the weather's been turning, rain, on the windshield, through the crack in the unclosed door, running down, up early to get a coffee and get warm.
Read the internet, the elections, imminent, Alberta, political news from there always triggers that Banjo music from "Deliverance" in my head, another obituary for another of our customers, one of the golfers, only saw them once this year, they were always very generous, but one was not looking in such good health.
I had joked that the restaurant would not open in the spring, would be sold, but at this rate it's going to open to no customers...
This is the routine. Then to the thrift shop to do my sorting, unboxing, treasures a-plenty.
By Thursday I've cleared the backlog and the back wall, for the first time in 6 months, is visible. I turn my attention to the jewelry, thinking that this will be a relief from all the kitsch and kitchenware I've had to endure.
I was wrong. Unknotting chains, mostly costume, cutting apart necklaces for the beads, bad hemp jewelry, or poorly crafted pendants or beaded bits of earrings, bracelets, occasional bits of fake silver, real silver, the glint of gold plating or - much rarer - a diamond chip set into 9 karat gold...
These are not the treasures I was looking for.
Saturday, Sunday, winter's here. Overnight, the wind howling, snow drifts piling, in the middle of the night the cities black, the power is off, and I'm largely warm but getting cold, colder, my feet, there's no way to keep them warm.
Another sleeping bag, another layer.
Bloody hell.
Make my way to Oso, run into V*****, a Quebecois who sits with me and tells me about his life, the moustached squirrel that broke into his cabin and spent 3 weeks inside eating everything, shitting everywhere, pissing everywhere, all while he was away in Quebec, and now he's returned to find this mess...
...and about work, and his son and chopping wood and all the trifling local news and how he needs firewood and his truck won't make it up the hill, too slippery...
I wasn't writing anyways, so sit and just listen.
I meet J***, an acquaintance of V*****, who joins the conversation from a neighboring table, young, very handsome, fluent in English and French, by which I mean he has no accent, contrasted with V***** who has the classic accent.
I get a call from the Police, they're reporting a break in at my jeep, and - for a moment - I'm confused.
"Who should I call?..." I wonder. I head down to check it out, door flapping in the wind, only a few flashlights stolen as far as I can see, tape the door closed.
And, walking down past the commercial space I'd considered renting for the winter - didn't get around quickly enough to it, and somebody else rented, taped paper over all the windows and I have the feeling that they are doing exactly what I would be doing, using a bogus business, "Quack Medical" or some such, as a front for their living space.
Which brings us to the moment, free now, after a fashion, a million things to be done and it's time to get serious, and time as well to get moved indoors...