Collateral Damage

I think I need ski pants. No, dear readers, not for skiing, which is an activity I still have difficulty wrapping my mind around (cold, wet, high likelihood of torn ACLs), but to avoid what happened yesterday.

Since Cablevision's DVR sucks like a thousand black holes of uselessness, one cannot have a series set to record and then, prior to recording, choose to not record certain of the episodes; if you attempt this, the DVR assumes you no longer want to record the entire series. So, if, for example, you want to record HGTV's House Hunters, you must record either only new episodes or ALL episodes; it's up to you to delete them post recording. I decided that a good use of my snow day, rather than say, doing laundry, cleaning the bathroom, or writing the great American novel, would be to selectively watch and delete as many episodes of House Hunters and Property Virgins as I could.

Some things I have learned: St. John is really viciously expensive and there is no beachfront property; Toronto is expensive for no reason I can come up with; Arizona, if you care to live there, is a place where for the price of a Manhattan studio apartment one can have a sprawling house with pool; and everyone in humanity wants granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances, but none of them knows why. See where I'm going with this? My brain was officially a wasteland yesterday, to the point where around 6pm, I seriously considered re-tiling things just because. While it is true that I also knit the front section of the sweater I am working on, it just doesn't seem like the trade-off was worth it.

So I'm making at least a mental list of the things I need prior to the next snow day. It includes: waterproof pants; waterproof gloves; long underwear; wool socks. Because the snow was actually sort of inviting-looking. Had I these necessary items, I could have dragged devoted partner from his work, at least for a moment or two, that we could do such fun things as make snow angels, throw snowballs at each other, sled down our driveway (which is hella steep) on the lids of our garbage cans, craft the world's least life-like snowperson, and, snow-texture permitting, make igloos. In my mind these things seem somewhat fun, though whilst a city dweller, I would have never considered any of them (dog waste makes snow evil and dog waste in snow occurs immediately in Manhattan).

The fact that I will most assuredly look like a misshapen yeti in the above outfit is ameliorated by the fact that in the suburbs fewer people are around to see you. I promise, if the above ever comes to pass, I will take pictures!