You know it's bad when the weather service has to make a Game of Thrones reference. (Thing: I like the person who writes these long weather statements for Manitoba; he/she has a much more colorful vocabulary than the person who did it for Ontario.) The cupboard was not what you call bare--in fact, there was plenty--no rush for bread and milk necessary the way people do when there's a storm coming. What are you all doing with that bread and milk? Anyway, what I did need was some coffee, because now I have grown myself an addiction and I was not about to let my little coffee jar go empty. And if I'm going out for coffee I might as well make sure there's an extra box of cream because Myron's been putting it on his hot cereal on the weekends. Two stops. No big.
There is a whole lot to hate about transit but if you head out on it with the right frame of mind, it can be not quite so bad. It helps if you have something playing in your ears (today, an old episode of The Splendid Table). I am practicing my chill lately (not the kind in the weather report) and to do this, you pretend that people do not smell bad or bounce their heads/air-drum to their music or eat a bag of onion rings and then wipe their hands on the seat. You pretend, in fact, that the seats are not covered in fabric because that is a terrible, terrible idea for a bus! You pretend they are fiberglass, wiped every night by a fleet of no-nonsense custodians with all of god's own ammonia. You focus on where you are going when you get out of the bus and what else is going on with you or you turn your brain off and listen to an argument for canola, instead of olive oil, in your next batch of toum. You remember there is a whole lot of local garlic in a wicker basket at home that is begging for this treatment. Before you know it, it's time to get off the bus.
At my transfer I saw a community bulletin board with a dozen flyers begging for my attention. They got it. Something about the dark day and the looming snowstorm and all that beautiful dark red on the Twelfth Night poster. Doesn't it make you just want to put on as many layers as you have to, and some lipstick just that red, and go watch a play? Good, bad, whatever? I understand if you don't, but I'm thrilled if you do. Winnipeg winter is a fucking beast and if you don't go out into it and basically defy it to kill you, it'll sense your fear and eat you up from the inside.