Black Magic just walked into my cubicle, talked at me for 10 minutes about the fruit of her loins (blackberries?...okay, this is verging on racist) and then tossed her laundry list in my garbage can. The only two items on it? Not a word of a lie: deodorant sticks and bounce sheets. Praise...be.
Before moving to Toronto, I was warned by Unibrow* that the winters here are murder.
"It only goes down to -8, maybe -9, but it's a damp cold so it just chills you to the bone. You can never...get...warm."
Needless to say, I was petrified. The fact that Winnipeg averages -30ºC temperatures failed to register with me as it was a dry cold and clearly no -50º windchill could compete with MOISTURE IN THE AIR. I brought all my heavy jackets, even going so far as to pack the balaclava I used to take out "a loan" from First National that one time, and waited for the arctic winter to hit.
And I continued to wait until yesterday when the high was 16º centigrade.
"This feels like spring," I thought to myself, remembering what they were like back in the day. (Winnipeg used to have them up until I was about 6 years old at which time they disappeared, much like the frozen snickers bars in my freezer. Now winter leads right into summer. I blame the Laotians*.)
"But this is impossible! I was promised bone-chilling weather that would chill my bone!"
And then a red-breasted robin landed right on my shoulder and tweeted, "Your friend Unibrow is a little bitch and Toronto is awesome."
Ugh, even the birds here are stuck up. She was right though. I'm pretty sure there was never more than three inches of snow on the ground and the coldest it ever got was, like, -16. So, Uni, way to win at life and best of luck with all future engagements at Opera Minsk.
*Hey, you don't submit a new nickname, it don't get changed, ayit? Respect.
** No, I don't.***
*** Yes, I do.