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Tuesday, January 06, 2004
The snowstorm began as I drove to work. No one else was on the road. I got to work much earlier than usual without traffic. I guess everyone else called ahead and decided to stay home.
An hour after getting in to work, Lisa shooed me away. I sent the spreadsheet and Word documents to my private email account. Then I bade farewell to everyone else.
My car, Little Egg, struggled up the hill to Hastings.
"This isn't so bad," I thought. Maybe I could stop at the library and pick up my hold.
The library was dark. Perhaps it was closed. I jumped out of my car and went to the old man shovelling the walk. He told me that, of course, the library is always open.
Inside I could not find my book anywhere. Hairy Boy was clerking this morning. He mentioned that there was a stack of books under the counter.
Yippee! I got my books!
I told Hairy Boy that since I was sent home from work, I would like to sit down with a cup of hot chocolate (damn! I forgot to buy marshmallows!) and read all day after I finish my stack of paperwork and the snow shovelling.
On the way home I skillfully manouveured Little Egg up and down all the hillls. And all the gas stations had lowered their prices. Why, it is Tuesday. The day all gas prices dip for a few hours. A good time to fill me tank.
Yet, all the stations I passed were on the wrong side of the road. There was a Husky on St. John's Street in Port Moody and they would surely have lower prices. That's where I would go.
Around Burnaby mountain I followed an Irishman along a black spoor. The trail petered out by St. John's Street. Little Egg began sliding again.
Finally my second to last stop before home: there was the Husky station. But the prices were a full four cents more expensive than the ones at the gas stations I passed on the way home. Damn Husky! I had no choice but to give my money to that Esso station farther down the road.
Then came the biggest challenge of the day: the boulevard leading up the mountain. Behind me were two trucks and a bus. "Little Egg, you can do it!" And after pushing Little Egg beyond its limit, I pulled up to my house and parked Little Egg behind my racist nutso neighbour, who had just parked his plumbing van in front as well.
Now back to the spreadsheets. But all this work has made me hungry. Time for lunch.
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