Well, here I am. In the great white north. It's not completely white yet but it is exceptionally cold in this basement. It's not all that great at the moment either.
I get to spend Thanksgiving alone. I'm making pasta. Not once in my 21 years have I spent a holiday alone. I guess I'm not completely by myself. Vixen is here but she's dirty and stinky and I have shunned her since she put two big muddy paw prints on the door of my brand new car. In dog land she did it out of love, because she was so excited that I was home. In people land if I had been able to catch her without dropping all the stuff in my arms I would have booted her right in the doggy-ass.
It's cold in the basement. I really should have gotten Eric to make a fire before he left. It's wet and dark out or I'd go figure it out myself. Having never chopped wood before I think that at night on fresh snow may not be the time to learn. Although what do I know. Maybe those are perfect conditions.
Eric got the TV hooked up today finally. Watching Gossip Girl on the CTV site was getting labour intensive. It loads about a minute and a half at a time and then I have to do something else while it loads again. It took literally two hours to watch a one hour program. Last time I checked the channels hadn't loaded yet on the dish. Maybe I should now. If Vixen weren't so dirty I'd like to laay on the couch and let her warm up my feet, but I'm still mad, and let's face it, she's pretty smelly.
Upon further investigation, there is still no TV and Vixen is still smelly. Even though I'm mad I can't bring myself to kick her outside to sleep. She kept standing out in the cold barking so I cleaned her off with a towel and made her sleep on it. She still loves me even though I'm bitter with her. She's curled up at my feet right now, she has no clue. Stupid dog.
I should go to sleep. It's 10:30 and I keep sleeping in. Tomorrow's going to be a busy morning. My page is on one of the first runs and I was too lazy to write my final story up tonight. I'll have to go in at 8:30ish to get my page done and then I have a press conference at 10:00. The story that comes out of that is going to run in the front pages of the paper. Blah. I hate press conferences. I hate working in front of the competition. I feel like I'm not doing stuff right and when they interview people I want to interview first I feel like I should get someone different to talk to me so I'm not getting the exact same interview as them. But then again, that's all a press conference is. Some official regurgitates some stuff after inviting us to come over, and we all end up with the same story anyways.
That all being said, my competition Tom is very nice. Perfectly friendly, except he thinks I'm on crack because whenever he tries to talk to me I'm accidentally rude and never hear him properly. Not on purpose of course. I'm also baffled by his constant use of a tape recorder. He never writes notes. Why would you want to listen to an interview twice? And what if your interview gets erased or recorded over? But I guess, what if I drop my notes in the Yukon River?
I'm rambling. To bed with me.
Annalee
No comments:
Post a Comment