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Dear Diary – Somebody posed the question “what are you doing during this confinement to better yourself?” and my answer was a guilty, “nothing”. So I tried to self-improve on the weekend by learning to pipe icing flowers on cupcakes. Note to self: add piping petals to my list things not to do. My pretty petals were appalling; my patience, particularly poor. The first 2 dozen or so mostly resembled pasty piles of poo. White poo. I tried to freeze 12 of my poopy peonies, but they wouldn’t freeze. I ended up transferring them to cupcakes, one petal at a time. Self-improvement made me want to cry and throw things. I think I’ll stick to napping.


Dear Diary, the neighbour decided to rearrange the vehicles in his driveway at 7:30 yesterday morning. It took him over an hour, and required him to rev and baby his engine as he jostled his large trailer up and down the driveway 500 times to get it in the “perfect” spot. I measured the time by the btzz-brtzz on my Fitbit. It btzzes every hour if I don’t reach 250 steps. I’m telling it off much more frequently these days.

I contemplated committing battery today. The neighbour started his giant white pickup at 6:30! The sound of the motor grumbling to life less than 20′ from my bed, woke me from a deep sleep. While I struggled to free myself from the twisted blankets, he proceeded to slam his door 3 times. I had to remind myself that if he just left it running for a few hours, which has happened before, I could sleep through the roar. It has the steady drone of a WWII bomber. BUT…if he started revving the engine, like he has done on multiple occasions before, he was in for a berating from a blue-haired, bare-legged little woman! Thank goodness I shaved! He must have heard my thoughts because he left 20 minutes later. He didn’t leave quickly…oh no! But he left.

The men and the digger arrived around 8:30…

Dear Diary – We went for another walk today. We had to bundle up again – winter coat, wool mitts…even a stupid toque with a giant fur pom-pom. I look stupid in hats. The neighbour’s stupid dog missed us on our first pass, so made up for it on our way home. I could still hear him even though I couldn’t see him.

I’m saying stupid a lot. If it keeps snowing every day, I will say it more.

I identify with the neighbour’s cows (and I’m not just talking about my middle). Even though they are normally content to wander their barnyard aimlessly, as are we, they are starting to get that same slightly crazed look in their eyes. Desperate to see something beside their own humans and their feedbags, they stare at us on our daily walk like we were trolls. I’m so desperate for a new change of scenery that I considered lining up the deck chairs to watch the guys dig a hole around the neighbours’ foundation. That made me feel like a troll. Actually I was more interested in watching them drink their morning coffee. It was from Tim’s. It’s been 34 days since I have had Tim’s. 34 days!!

Dear Diary, Ah yes! In stereotypical small town vogue, the workmen wear plaid, drive big pickup trucks and listen to country music. [shudder]. I can hear it through the walls…

I covet their Tim’s.

I was the first one up today. It was 9:30! Hubby called. He was too perky, and he hadn’t even had coffee yet. I miss him but I also got my wish: I get to sleep in and slip from the sumptuous bonds of bedding when I’m ready.

After I talked to Hubby, the car alarm on my neighbour’s van went off. After more than 3 minutes of honking, I got up to investigate. The workers were busy in their hole, trying to ignore it. It was then that I noticed a big, burly, bald-headed man in a red tee shirt with a matching red face. If he was a cartoon, there’d be steam shooting from his ears. He was marching across the neighbour’s lawn. I guess someone else was woken from a deep sleep. The van, sensing death nearing, quit squawking and the man marched home without making merry with someone’s face. I can’t lie. I was a little disappointed.


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