It's early November, a Wednesday, and I'm up and around before 9am. This is novel to me, but it shouldn't be, as any day now the snow will fly and fall upon my route to and from work like a Chinese army of hexagonal killjoys tittering in the frosty Edmonton air.
Surprisingly, I'm still able to take Midnight to work with me, which makes getting home and off to rehearsal an easy proposition, but it's not going to last. Today may be the last riding day of the season, which I've come to terms with despite the ickiness of this year's spring and the shortness of the summer.
Every year, at around this time, I wonder why I haven't yet gotten myself a decent spring/autumn coat, warm gloves and a hat or toque. I'm all set for winter, but not for the lead-up to it. I suppose that will all be moot soon, too.
The sun is still low on the horizon, and I'm betting Midnight is going to complain mightily about being started this early. My space in this house is altogether too hot and dry. Winter is coming, and in the cold, dark days of December and January, I'm goingt o be mighty thankful of the efficiency of this new furnace my landlord's installed.
Wyrd Sisters is coming up at the Walterdale.
Pure Speculation Festival is coming up at MacEwan University.
I'm making a hair appointment for this weekend.
See how the start of winter goes? My days are just packed.
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