While walking into work this morning with my goose, I was *so* tempted to honk at the Canada Goose that has claimed part of our parking lot as his own personal oasis.

So tempted.

Seasonal duck now has a work counterpart: not-so-seasonal goose.

Every person in my company has one of these. And it honks. Imagine several hundred people getting these all at once and you’ll have a pretty good idea of what it was like for fifteen minutes or so this afternoon.

After an almost daily does of Tim Horton’s tea during the Roll up the Rim to Win contest, my body now expects it every morning. I might even say it craves it. At first it plays along, patiently waiting while I actually work, sending the occasional tic to remind me that it is still there, but by about 9:30 it realizes that I am trying to outsmart it (silly me) and it starts getting a little fussy, demanding satisfaction for the addiction. And as weak as I am, I keep feeding it, even though I know I should be stronger and should stand up for my non-tea drinking rights¹.

It’s almost as bad as movie popcorn.

¹Little does it know, I’ve actually been feeding it decafinated tea.

When attempting to work from home, it is imperative that you bring home the papers you need to work.

It is on mornings like this, when I wake up to find big fat snowflakes gently making their way to the ground, that I wonder if Spring will ever come or if Mother Nature is stuck in a rut, too lazy to flip the switch between Winter and Spring.

Methinks it is mating season for the frogs/toads¹ here in the wilds of Waterloo. Last night, they seranaded me as I drifted off to sleep. Today on my way home I passed a writhing mass in the water that turned out to be at least two of the creatures and all around in the water I could see their little heads and hear their songs.

Love (or at least lust) is in the air.

¹ I admit, I can’t tell the difference between toads and frogs. It’s like alligators and crocodiles; I know there is a difference, it just doesn’t stick in my head.

The problem with taking pills when you first get up is that five minutes later, when you are in the shower and actually start to really wake up, you can’t remember if you actually took the pills or not.

“I remember opening the container … or was that yesterday … no that was definitely today … I remember reading my email … deleting the spam … checking for that DVD … then I closed the window … got in the shower …

“But did I take the pill? …”

When the salt water tank at work so sadly disappeared, they took their time in replacing it, teasing us with rumors of something interesting, only to put up ordinary drywall in the end. A few days later they spiced up the bland wall with art from the framing place next door, complete with price in case anyone was interested in purchasing the piece. The art isn’t so bad, although they could make it a bit more interesting by cycling the pieces a little more frequently. The starfish moved faster than the art.

On Thursday night or Friday morning they took down the most recent display but did not put anything else up to fill it. So someone at work filled it for them by putting up their own little sign:

Holes in Drywall
Artist: Unknown
Price: $225.00

It’s … SNOWING!!

Okay. I feel better now.

Somewhere in all my sloth these past three days I did manage to finish two stories:
Hope and faith and Through sleet and snow and stories.

Okay, to be honest they were pretty much finished and all I did was tidy them up a little. But that’s pretty ambitious for a sloth, yes?