The vanishing spot of hope and reality

Back into the vet’s this morning to get Tui her shots and annual physical. It is a wonder of Ontario that I can get the cats into see the vet with no trouble, but try to see a doctor with your 11-year-old child, and you end up being given the runaround. For Ottawacker Jr. is off school again today and is, if anything, slightly worse. The doctor still hasn’t answered her preferred method of communication – texting – and so we’re out on our own. Whaddyagonnado?
 
Mrs. Ottawacker in to work for meetings – so I braved the cold (she having de-iced the car and the drive) – and drover her in before taking Tui to her appointment. She took today's blip: I call it the vanishing spot of hopes and realty. It's how I see winter in Ottawa. Got back around 11, having done nothing but run errands since I got up. While at the appointment, I couldn’t help but notice that Kevin XX, the snow non-remover man, had been replaced. Someone was clearing the parking lot of a foot of snow as I arrived, and so Tui and I sat patiently in the car until he finished.
 
Watched Liverpool beat Girona in a rather tedious Champions League game: I am getting a little tired of being gaslighted by commentators telling me how exciting the turgid shite I am watching is. It’s as if they are contractually obliged to say the Premier League/Champions League/Europa League is, when just as often, it isn’t.  Am I though? Am I gaslighted? Or am I gaslit?
 
Finished a backblip, then went downstairs to cook dinner. A smorgasbord of left overs, supplemented with snow peas and a steak. Ottawacker Jr. convinced he is going into school tomorrow, so he can participate in the regional bordenball tournament. Hmmm.