Sunday, 17 March 2013

Happy St. Patrick's Day, Ottawa!: Stay out of my hood




Like some sort of Alfred Hitchcock character, I usually sit for hours in the rear window of my house reading, writing and watching the crazies who begin to come out of their lairs with the first nip of spring.
My neighbor adjacent was standing on his balcony yesterday with a green hat on, beer and smoke in hand, yelling insults and spitting bile onto the walkers on the street below.
It's St. Patrick's Day weekend, the time when all the lunatics claim to be Irish.
Party on, dudes.
The cabin fever has official set in. Yesterday, I bounced from my various stations, all designed with great care to stave off the boredom of an unproductive life. It's been two weeks since I was sacked from my job and I don't know what to do with myself. The four hours I spend writing web junk doesn't cut it.
I'm in desperate need of distraction.
Scott was working at his part-time drone job at the wine store so I was left to my own devices. Fortunately, the spirit of St. Patrick no longer invades me, so Scott did not find me in a heap at the bottom of the stairs like some of my neighbors.
Instead, I was obsessing about Wigglers.
Yesterday was not unlike the day before.
I got up, wrote my blog for you nice people, fed the dogs, read the papers online, cruised Facebook, added to the brilliant repartie on Twitter, cruised Facebook again, made myself an Egg McMuffin, then spent six hours playing Mario Sticker Party for the DS.
By hour five I was fuming. The dogs were being assholes, so I jumped up and screamed at them.
"How am I supposed to get the last Wiggler with you dipshits distracting me?"
That's when I knew I was in trouble. Mario was on my last nerve.
So I decided to take a nap, as I do most afternoons with the television humming in the background. I got the dogs settled, Sophie on my side, Gordie behind my knees, Finnigan on the pillow at the end of the sofa. I was just dozing off when Jurassic Pug started fussing and the other dogs began to mill.
It happened. Gordie shit on me -- again.
So up I got, menaced Finnigan so he wouldn't eat said shit and cleaned it all up.
Fortunately, Gordie is a bullet man, he doesn't poop a river, so clean up was quick, if not disturbing.
That was it for my nap.
Back to Mario where I destroyed the Ninjas and the ghosts and finally got Wiggler -- only to have him jump to the next level where I must chase him down once again.
Oh well, it gave me something to get me out of bed today.
And distracted me from killing the dogs.
Happy St. Patrick's Day. BTW, stay out of my neighborhood.

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