Warning: Don’t blog when angry

Anyone familiar with Groundhog Day?

Specifically, this part of the film:


I love this part—it’s Bill Murray at his best, when he says to Punxsutawney Phil (the groundhog) as they drive into the quarry to, hilariously and impermanently, commit suicide: “That’s not bad for a quadruped. You gotta check your mirrors, just the side of your eye… That’s it! They’re chasing us! Come on, make it fun! Don’t drive angry.” It is from there that this post has its title.

Because a little comic relief was DEFINITELY in order when I pulled into the homelands tonight. On the plus side, no traffic around here meant that I did the drive in 8 hours.


The minus side, however… oh dear. +4°C in West Van became -12°C in the Hinterlands. OK, I can deal… I got my favourite Indian food for dinner—from the only restaurant I eat at in the Hinterlands, ever since my fish allergy drove me away from the awesome sushi place… and I was told by the delightful owner, “I’ve sold. I’m going to work at my husband’s restaurant. Oh—he doesn’t do Mattar Paneer like this though.” Suddenly, Alina, I felt like we were one stomach dwelling in two bodies, in terms of your pad thai quest. Now, I SO FEEL YOUR PAIN.

I pulled into my back alley to find that my neighbours had not only helped themselves to my parking place, but a guest of theirs had also blocked my access. Nice. If they ever ASKED to use the place, I’d say yes, and tell them when I’m coming home so they wouldn’t obstruct my unpacking, as they do EVERY. TIME. I go AWAY. I’m a right bitch about it, and so I then parked my car to obstruct their guest, and went inside to eat my last mattar paneer.

I braced for cold…

… and was greeted with tropical warmth the likes of which I hadn’t felt since New Zealand, a few weeks ago… there, however, it was natural: this was a hot and humid day… my fave!

My mind whirred back to my departure, when I set the temperature for 55°F (12.78°C). No one was going to be home, so that seemed reasonable.

Then it whirred again, to when I strolled through the grocery store in Auckland and my phone rang… it was my landlord, so I answered it. I said, tersely (since he KNEW I was in NZ, and this could only be bad news): “George, I’m in New Zealand—what’s wrong?” He said “oh, nothing! Just wanted to let you know that the furnace guy is coming in to do some work this week!” I said: “great. I won’t be there. If there’s no emergency, this is expensive… bye!”

Furnaceman changed my thermostat from Fahrenheit (which, after 3.5 years in my house, I still don’t understand) to Celsius. Sweet! But he also left the temperature at 19°. See? On the left? Shit.

On the right you see *my* set temperature… for when I’m AT HOME. Not galivanting around the world. I’m REALLY miserly about the heat, and I’m epically pissed that now, I have to pay for 23 days of my furnace revving the house up to 19°C. AND I DIDN’T EVEN GET TO FROLIC BAREFOOT IN IT!!!!

(PS: furnace man also clogged my kitchen sink…) Ookie.

Lest you think I just took to the blogosphere to vent my spleen, I actually am turning these lemons into… well, not lemonade, something stronger. Maybe a Mike’s Hard?

I took all this negativity and am turning it into a HUGE positive: TONIGHT, finally, I’m restarting my nightly meditation. Clearly, I need it 😀 , but I’m also calling it Step One in my “Back to Basics” detox… so if I haven’t turned you off with my anger (think Punxsatawney Phil instead!!), I hope you’ll please come back tomorrow and play the interactive game of giving your two sense for how to find what’s important and stick with it…

Because, unlike the Bill Murray / Punxsatawney Phil suicide pact, I’m going to work this out.
Not bad for a biped!