I surrender.

I quit.

I hereby throw in the towel.

I will also admit to being able to read vague, murky clues, even if they are delivered in a most dramatic fashion…

Yesterday, I turned the furnace on. In flippin’ September!! Without even any snow on the ground!! Yet, it had to be done. After one too many mornings of Mrs. That Dan Guy waking me up while wearing:

a) a fur wrap,
b) a fur-lined parka,
c) a snowmobile (snow machine in Alaska, apparently),
d) a microwaveable bag for browning bacon,
e) a freshly-gutted deer carcass…

…well, I got the melodramatic hints. She was cold in the morning. And, truth be told, I was feeling the chilly nip of fall myself. Though we tried valiantly to stave it off by running our gas fireplace, wearing multiple sets of long-johns, and performing occasional Jumping Jacks to the recorded strains of Olivia Newton-John’s “Let’s Get Physical”, the furnace was rapidly becoming entirely necessary.

While we used to wait until late November in Kelowna, it would appear that we must heat our home while summer has just edged around the corner, here in Calgary.

Damn you, Rocky Mountains…damn you!!!

Chow for now!!