Day #559 in Canada

...was last Saturday, and I had a few worryingly Canadian moments.

Canadian Moment #1: I wake up on a bright winter morning, go downstairs to make coffee, and step out onto my snow-swamped deck to check the temperature. Cold, but not painfully cold, so when my roommate asks, I tell her with almost maniacal cheerfulness that it feels "like spring!" only to check the weather app on my phone and see that it is 21 degrees F, but with windchill feels like 9. I have apparently lost my ability to clearly perceive the world around me. I begin to question my sanity.

Canadian Moment #2: In response to the balmy weather, I attempt to fling my windows open with abandon, only to find that they are frozen shut, which I should have realized because I've been developing an approximate method of temperature assessment based on the amount of ice buildup on them on any given day:

Cold. 

Colder. 

Coldest (ice on the inside of the window). 

I bang the ice off of one of them and fling it open, leave it flung for 2.5 minutes, realize that I'm freezing, and close it on all but a few inches of fresh air. Strike 2 against mental stability.

Canadian Moment #3: I take the compost out and open the bin to find a scruffy raccoon staring up at me, wide-eyed and accusing. I let out a sort of spluttering yelp and leap away, and he rockets out of the can and hoists his considerable bulk to the top of the fence. But he then turns and looks balefully back at me, probably hoping that I would politely excuse myself after such a rude interruption of his meal. The judgement in his beady eyes compels me to object that that we have a deal - we separate our most delicious trash with the understanding that it will be eaten AT NIGHT- and then realize that I am standing in the snow and arguing with vermin. That seems to be strike three against sanity, and all three occurred before noon.

To those reading and considering intervention: all I ask is that my asylum be somewhere sunny. The American Southwest might be nice.