It's Getting Hot in Here

Husband, whose heartbeat is the steady beacon by which I navigate, is the sunny yang to my broody yin and without whom I would be adrift in an endless sea of emptiness, has finally left the house and gone for a cross-country ski by himself, thank the stars.

I love that man to distraction but we nearly had a spat over soap foam on the clean dishes this morning. My friends, we have achieved Cabin Fever. 

It took a 3-day Manitoban snowstorm to do it. After days of snow, blowing snow and snowed in streets, we have de-evolved from a loving unit into a pair of sweaty-eyed maniacs, each grappling for the axe in an attempt to smash through the bathroom door and empty the cat box on the other's head.

Thankfully, it turned up sunny today. We desperately needed the solace of doing something damn else, and thus it was with great relief that we gave each other a Look. Without a word spoken, Husband and I had the following conversation.

"Sweetie, I love you and it is vital to the continuation of this love that I love you, passionately and completely, from the mezzanine overlooking the Polo Park Chapters at the junction of Empress and Maroons, by the mall. For, like, at least three hours. Don't worry about the road conditions, it's only a 45 minute walk. I'll snowshoe there if I have to."

"Ditto. Meeker and I are going skiing."

When I moved to this gorgeous province, I thought it was a charming quirk that all the locals seemed to be so moody whenever the sun was blocked by a passing cloud. The wee dears, with their Vitamin D tablets and their UV lamps and their homicidal road rage. So sweet.

I get it, now. 

For Husband, whom I love completely, but never more than at this moment, as I sip a decaf tall flat white with skim milk, easy foam.

All Netflix and no sunshine makes us both crazy people.

All Netflix and no sunshine makes us both crazy people.

All Netflix and no sunshine makes us both crazy people.

All Netflix and no sunshine makes us both crazy people.