The Bloody Doors Off

Now is the winter of my discontent, made worse by the winds of the North.

Seriously, I fucking hate this weather.

(Aside, I just saw an ad for pills for bi-polar depression: possible side-effect, increased thoughts of suicide, oh fucking joy.)

I like to walk, but not in -30c weather.

My doctor recommends it; he calls it ‘exorcising’ (as in exorcising demons, of which I have many).

In the good weather? It’s fantastic. I’ve walked from Pape and Cosburn down to the Beaches boardwalk. But when it gets so cold you can toss a cup of water out and it turns to ice, I’m lucky to make it to the mailbox and back.

This needs to change.