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About

This is what it could look like when one completely deconstructs a life as one knows it, and how to build from the ground up. Alternatively, this is a fresh look at an old story. The fine art of falling apart.

all the words that I've been reading...
The past few days have been...interesting. I've been snuggled away in my bed for the majority of it, reading books that have arrived in the mail like little sweet presents from an unknown realm. The weather here has been far from ambient, with winds that were super crazy for about 2 days. On Thursday night, one of the towns power lines finally gave in and split from another, causing half of the town to lose it's electricity.

I could feel it giving. The lights shuddered and blinked in small brown outs for about a half hour before a quiet and velvety blanket of dark was thrown over most of the village. I groaned and placed the book I was reading over my face, asking "Why NOW?" in a pissy voice. give me that, it's my dust catcher. Then I just lit several of the hundred or so (ok, I'm exaggerating) candles that I had sent up in my move, and continued to read as if nothing had happened.

I grew up in the North, after all. Maybe not this North (Arctic, Canada) but 'North' enough to know to have candles on hand at ALL times and that the power usually goes out whenever it wants to. What I wasn't expecting, was for the power to remain out for approximately 36 hours. Even in Arctic Canada, that length of time is stretching beyond the borders of normality. They had to fly linesmen in to fix the broken line, and the weather being what it was, the guys didn't actually arrive until early this morning.

But by then, I had dug in. I had sandwich making materials, cold pop (courtesy of the windowsill) and enough blankets to cover ten people (no, not bluffing that time). I was fine. Even when the temperature dipped alarmingly below zero, I was toasty under the covers, reading a book and enjoying myself thoroughly. It was the amount of books that made it bearable. I am really patting myself on the back for ordering in so many. The hard part was choosing which one to read, ha.

If I were 'down south', you can bet I'd be pitching a fit. But here, it's just one more thing to survive to make it to the next day. Not wanting to worry the family, I tried to call a couple of people last night but gave up after the 2nd person I called didn't pick up the phone. I figured the power would be on before too long and I'd email everyone with my aliveness at that point. What I hadn't counted on was my mother freaking out and calling every RCMP station she could find in all of Nunavut. I just know they are snickering about the 32 year old social worker whose mother kicked up a storm until locating her daughter (safe in her bed after a hot lunch at the DEW line). Too funny.

But some not funny things happened, as well. I didn't want to write about it, because I figured I'd dwell on the subject and become upset before too long. I saw the by-law officer drive by me as I parked alongside my office building (had to grab the modem), towing behind him a very puffy and fluffy dog that could have passed for a husky if his colours were different. He was tethered to the back of the truck by a long piece of yellow rope, and he jogged happily (I think) enough behind the slow moving vehicle. At first, I thought maybe the guy had found the dog wandering and was returning him to his home. But when I drove to my house afterwards, I saw the truck far ahead of me on the only road that leads to the town dump, and I knew what was in for the dog. I sat in my truck for a long time after turning it off, watching the dog get smaller and smaller as they got further and further away.

I thought about whether or not I could fit another dog into my life, and what that would look like. Or a million other things that I, as a 'southerner' could complain about regarding this poor dog, but in the end, I got out of my truck and grabbed my backpack and walked into my house.

The World I know - Collective Soul
Bag of Bones - Stephen King

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