So, Friday, and I’m off. I was pretty excited, and Todd and I planned to go out and have a nice time. We were supposed to go to a movie with another couple, but they backed out and free hockey game tickets had surfaced so we decided to do that instead.
Game time was 7:30. We still had to feed a friend’s cat, but we left around 5:50, thinking we had enough time to eat and feed the cat and park and get in okay. I change sweaters, and break my glasses. *sigh* At least I had a back up pair, I think to myself.
We drive and end up at a new little Indian restaurant in town. Smells good, small but full, and we place our orders sometime between 6:10 and 6:20. The teenager that’s serving us comes back to our table about five or ten minutes later, having forgotten to ask for our drink order, and then leaves again. Now, it wasn’t until 6:30 that I started watching the clock, because we did have to get to the game, as well as the cat (though the cat could wait, worse case scenario). We hang out, we play games, chat … pretty patiently. Two other tables are seated after us, and are served by a different server. Okay. Our drinks never arrive. Figure they will come with dinner. Waiting … waiting … finally 7:00 comes around and nothing. The other two tables? Yeah, they have food. I get up and go to the front, where our server is ‘hiding’ behind the cash register, playing with chits, with I think her mother looking on. I ask about our meal, and all I get is a terse, “It’s coming.”
I return to my table. 7:15. We have no hope in hell of making the 7:30 on time. We get our jackets and get up and head out. We get to the front and tell them to cancel our order, and the mother asks us to stay, and the girl says, “We’re just about to start it.” I was so miffed at the time, I assumed that she meant it was about to come out, but in retrospect, and with what Todd heard, too, we figure she meant that they were just about to start COOKING IT. Yeah, no. We apologized, they apologized, and we told them we’d come back another day (the place smelled GREAT), and left. Honestly, their menu is huge for such a small restaurant.
So, we race to the hockey game, find no close parking and haul butt to get inside. A slack-jawed girl takes our tickets (after some prompting), and then we run to the concession stand. I ate cold pizza and pop, while Todd tried to valiantly down three luke-warm hotdogs.
We get to our seats (after a long walkabout), with about ten minutes left in the first period, to find a Dad and his kids in our seats. “Sorry,” he says, “I didn’t have tickets for them.” Uh-huh … now the kids are looking at us for taking ‘their’ seats. By this point we wolf down the crappy food and try to get into the game. We missed the first home-team’s goal while we were getting the food. After that, the visitors scored and all that happened next were penalties after penalties. The crowd was growly, my mood was shot … ugh.
We didn’t stick around for the third period. Left before the end of #2.
Saturday comes, as does the snow. It started later in the day and would end up dumping 45cm over the course of the next 24 hours. Todd goes to North Bay for some skiing while I head to work. After he gets back, I get a call – guess what! Our furnace is dead! And no one can come until maybe 10:00 pm … and in the end no one comes that night. We get two space heaters from Todd’s dad and put on our warmest jammies. Thankfully it never gets that cold, only about 14 degrees C.
And when Sunday comes … well, there’s all that snow! We have to dig out, so we set the alarm early and Todd heads out to get the snowblower into position. He has to carve a path from the back shed, along the side of the house, down the front path, up the sidewalk, and then he’s in the driveway. Get’s one pass between the sidewalk and the roadway, through nearly waist high snow drifts and castoffs from the road ploughs … and the snowblower dies! Oooh, it’s a great day!
Now, we have a huge driveway – large enough for three cars, plus the sidewalk, and then the space between the sidewalk and the road, which as I’ve already stated is filled with heavy, heavy sludge-snow. There’s no way I will be in on time … I either help him dig out manually or I walk to the nearest store, get cash, and call a cab to get my arse to work. I call work … calling and calling and calling … because there is no staff answering the phone until 10:00 am, and it’s nearly 8:00 am. Finally someone picks it up, and I tell John I’m going to be late … and beg for a ride. Thankfully, Dan at work can bring me, so the crisis is mostly adverted. We even get a guy in the repair the furnace by around lunchtime, so heat was restored. (Just a busted relay, and $250 fee.)
So … we THINK that’s it. We’ve had our little run of shitty luck, we’re done now, please leave us alone.
I’m just gonna get into jammies for all my days off and study my Cooking stuff. Hello highlights, ballpoints, lined paper and popcorn.