an interlude

[cimorene]

Wax and I walked to the historic neighbourhood across the railroad tracks with Perry on Sunday to look at the outside of some houses that contained flats for rent. Both were in varying degrees of rundown; one was pretty sweet, but had already been rented. ("That solves our problem!" chirped Wax.) It was a pretty nice walk though. There are tons of picturesque little houses and also lots of houses that appear to be inhabited by bums, if their state of disrepair/garbage-and-plastic-chair-adorned porches are anything to go by. It's also the sort of neighbourhood where Audi-driving assholes skid around blind corners going 70km/h where the limit is 40 even though there's not a sidewalk.

It was in the middle of a brief thaw, and the walkways between our well-located flat and downtown being thoroughly melted and largely swept clear of gravel, we both went over there in regular sneakers and jeans instead of winter boots. We discovered to our chagrin that the sheets of bubbly ice aren't so well melted in the field behind the railroad tracks or on the fiddly little unkempt sidewalks along the busy highway-feeding streets. There was some skidding involved. It was nice to feel that spring was on its way for a while, though: yesterday it blizzarded all day, depositing something like 4-6 inches of snow. I'm getting really tired of the snow about now.