An Open Letter

Dear Old Man Winter,

Apparently, I have upset you.

It would seem that seconds after I posted my blog on Monday evening about how you bring people together up here - and made a dig about your beloved Packers - you thought it necessary to prove that you are not a cuddly old grandfatherly type, by plunging all of Yellowknife into a blackout. Nicely played, good sir.

And even after the lights went back on, you thought it further necessary to demonstrate to me, personally, that you are a force to be reckoned with by freezing the pipes in my trailer and forcing me to go water-less for a few days. I am sure that you roared with amusement as you watched me burst through the doors to the men’s change room at the gym before work this morning in a tip-toed sprint, barely making it in enough time to conduct my ritualistic morning business. Touche, old man.

Still, though, you didn’t think I’d learned my lesson, and have now revoked my functioning furnace privileges. I am water-less and heat-less and throwing myself at your mercy. You win, jack ass.

I should not have described Monday night’s blackout as “part of the adventure” of being up here, nor should I have called my girlfriend so that she could share in the excitement with me from afar. I was wrong to shrug off being water-less and point out how it was all good since I live so close to the gym. I did not show you the proper respect, and for that I am deeply sorry, as you have now ratcheted up your assault.

Allow me to stand corrected: You do not encourage people to come together in the Wintertime, as I previously suggested. Rather, you marginally permit it. You are not a kindly, aged Friendly Giant figure, but are more akin to a hung over and sexually frustrated Mr. Burns. You make the Grinch look like the love child of Sharon, Lois and Bram. You are a ruthless son of a bitch. One night in your Northern grip makes the “cold” Ottawa winters I used to boast about seem like a four-month tropical love-in of a birthday party with an open bar, hosted by the Rockettes.

I was wrong to underestimate you and I feel that you have proven your point. If you could please have the heat working in the trailer again by the time I get back from work this afternoon, I would really appreciate it. I’m even violating my strict “one blog post per week” policy so that the seven people will know what a self-righteous vigilante you really are.

I thank you for your prompt attention to this matter.

Hugs and Kisses,

Harty