This is the holiest week of the year in a ski-centric town. The week of the first real snowfall, that is.
All the ski-bums are frolicking about twitterpated with Mother Nature … and I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate the magic of a deep mountain winter … I’m just fucking cold.
I know, I know … today it was allegedly -127 degrees Celsius in Fort St. John (my Northern hometown). But I happen to know for a fact that you all live in new-ish, well-insulated homes with central heating systems. I, on the other end of the province, live in a heritage home which turns into a drafty deep freeze at the very mention of snow. So, although it may not read anywhere near -127 degrees on the thermometer, I’ve spent the better part of the week trying to avoid frostbite in my own house.
Due to a variety of size and positioning factors, our little office happens to be the warmest place in the entire house. It’s as toasty as a sauna once you suit up in your long janes, wool socks, slippers, scarf, fur hat, and mittens, have a couple cups of tea and bottles of beer, and do a few blood circulating exercises. Although, I am starting to wonder if I’m beginning to exhibit signs of cabin fever by spending so much time in the office.
Today I realized that, just like messages in my cell phone text message inbox, when the items sitting on top of the beer fridge in our office were taken out of context (by being photographed, that is) they created a hilarious portrait of home office life.
From left to right: whiskey, tea, cider, trail mix, rescue remedy, international phone cards, greens, condoms, duct tape.
I’m currently inhabiting a big ol’ red room in a big ol’ red house in Nelson, BC. One great part of my new digs is having a little red office off my big red room.
Let’s have a photour of the office:
No office is complete without a beer fridge and an office-mate to share the contents of said beer fridge with (extra office completion points if the person you share space & beer with also shares your first name and last initial).
No office is complete without official nameplates.
No office is complete without a crate of chocolate purchased on day-after-Halloween sale.
No office is complete without a shrine to Heintje. You know, the little joy of Germany (second only to The Beatles in Deutschland’s album sales) who sings such hits as I’m Your Little Boy and If I Could Be a Sailorman with his “spine-crackling metallic falsetto”.
No office is complete without a collection of Mitch Miller albums so you can whistle while you work and/or sing along with your favorite songs such as Hinky Dinky Parlez-Vous and The Whiffenpoof Song.