If we were having coffee…
What? Yes, I said, “Coffee.”
For those of you keeping track, it’s been exactly one month since I stopped drinking coffee. Evidently, temporarily.
I caved. Today I had coffee.
Oh, I tried to find satisfaction in a mug of tea.
Reeled in by the advertising copy, I purchased an assortment of ground cacao beans:
Lose weight! High in antioxidants! No caffeine, no sugar, no fat!
Which, in my case, might be true as long as I didn’t add the sweetener and milk after the fact.
Did I lose weight? HA! I repeat, HA, HA!
Where was I?
Oh, yes. If we were having coffee, I’d tell you that I am shamefully out of shape. Today, the first day in I don’t how long, I got out for a walk.
Yes, I will concede that there might be a correlation between my inactivity and the readouts on the bathroom scales.
The minus double digits of the last several weeks finally moderated to a balmy -3 degrees, and in the sunshine, with the light bouncing off the snow, probably warmer. Reiner and I trudged to the post office, via the shortcut through the park.
“Only the hydro bill,” he said, and we retraced our steps.
The good news? Hydro rates have also moderated. The Ontario government no longer charges us 8% sales tax. Plus the “delivery” charge has also lowered. These changes, along with the occasional use of our wood burning stove brought our bill down by over 25%.
The bad news? Well, as we tromped through the white expanse of the park at Cobalt Lake, we could hear a backhoe on Nipissing Road ahead of us. Sure enough, a homeowner was clearing snow. About a foot of the stuff fell in the last few days.
Oh, man, I thought. I hope he hasn’t covered the access point to the short cut.
Reiner went first, breaking trail by packing down the snow so that I could follow up and over the huge wall before us.
I couldn’t make it. The snow was still too fresh, too fluffy and unconsolidated. I’d take a step and sink to my knees, to my hips. You see, I weigh (oh man, this is embarrassing to admit) a good fifty pounds more than my slim, trim ectomorph of a husband.
I considered and then promptly dismissed my options: I could crawl over the snowbank on my belly. No, beneath my dignity. I could turn around and take the hour-long alternate route. No! Get real!
Of course, by this time the backhoe operator is waiting and watching, and my embarrassment has escalated. I’m back in high school gym class, being chastised by the coach for failing to clear the high jump.
I briefly considered breaking into tears.
But, I made it over. I gave a little bow, complete with hand flourishes. I cursed under my breath, and marched the rest of the way home.
My face was red with exertion. My body was shaking for a good hour afterward.
I rested on the couch, and noodled around on my tablet. As I recovered my breath and my composure, I got a message from my neighbour.
Hey neighbor, are you ok?
Did you get stuck in the dad gum snow?
She told me that the backhoe operator was another neighbour, and he cleared the snow for homes on our road. She told me that he had just opened the pathway to the park.
I felt more than a bit sheepish for harbouring thoughts of ill-will toward the guy. Our timing was off, that’s all.
What’s that? Yes, of course you are right. I could probably benefit from getting out more.
Will I make it happen?
Well, let’s review the opening lines of this post, wherein I give in to old habits, shall we?
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Inspired by my kind neighbour on Nipissing Hill. Thanks, Jane!
Categories: In Other News