fleeting.

...feels like -9 degrees fahrenheit.
yep.
that's what the weather report says.
i say it feels like somebody is F*ing kidding me.
this is it, neighbors.
for real.
today is the day-
the last day of winter,
and it's going out like a frozen tundra turd,
whipped apart by a swirling sh!tstorm of whirlwind.
ugh.
i can't hang out with this sort of arctic deactivation,
or at least,
i've had my fair share, and then some, of this brutal b!tchbag of a winter.
that's no joke.
northern new england was colder than alaska?
colder than iceland?
WTF?! it's called ICEland, duders.
c'mon.
we win for suckiest,
and we even set some sort of records for worst one yet.
nicely done, ma nature-
you always win,
but thanks so much for really putting the insult on top of the injury this year.
the wind was such a gusting bustout yesterday that people were wearing ski-masks
whilst ambulating along the sidewalks, with zero sense of fashion consciousness,
and a bone-bitten awareness of the knife-edged frostbite incising all exposed skin.
i'm just sayin',
it sucks a whole bunch when you're out walking anyway,
but it super sucks when you're gonna lose body parts while you do it.
yuck.
i was so enraged at the moving air blowing in changes and answers
that i really didn't know what else to do with myself...
so i baked up a bunch of treats,
and let my oven add ambient thermal units to the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress.
uh-huh.
the kitchen was a hotbed of activity,
but it never really got hot.
instead,
the wind pressurized the thermal panes of my picture windows,
and pulsed along the seams and sills, so that the whole massive mansion
was a vacuum of bass-boosted airstreams and sub-sonic sh!t-salad.
yep.
the thrum, throb, and thump of air wishing it wasn't suck an A*-hole,
or maybe basking in it's A*-holery,
had my whole house pulsing like the icy heart of a frost giant.
damn.
that's a hard style.
so, i spent most of my day bundled up and shivering anyway,
but,
i got the treats poppin',
and i finished off my breakfast bloxxx first thing this a.m.,
for a feast of tea and bananas and bread.
mmmhmmmm.
check the cinnamon-sugary-type teleport:

wooohoooo.
cranberry walnut baby banana bread blocks.
expert.
cinnamon and nutmeg;
vanilla and brown sugar;
toasted black walnuts;
diced dried cranberries;
soy yogurt;
oatmeal, and of course, bananas.
boom.
*
i don't know what y'all are up to,
but i'm stuffing my face full of square delights.
it's a good way to start up a last day,
and a very energizing addition of nutrients to the final breakfast
of this woodsly goodsly season of wintry discontent.
...yup.
-
...oh,
and did i mention i became a furnace repairman last night?
uh-huh.
my usual method of total overreaction,
and the inevitable application punch-kicks didn't fix the problem (surprisingly),
which forced the intervention of cooler heads and deductive reasoning.
it was getting so unpleasantly cold in here
that i felt the boiling point inside me was going to be reached
even as the temperature dropped steadily in proportion
to the plummeting darkening doo-doo buttery frozen airflow from without.
ew.
i used my brain, however, and systematically activated all the possible combinations
or switches, levers, toggles, and controls,
until i got it right, ad got it going all over again.
what was the reward for all of that rugged interaction,
and objectional interjections of ornery homeownery troubleshooting?
a warm homestead, for starters,
and also, amber made me some stir fry.
and that was good.
teleport:

mmmmmmm.
a full belly of warm food,
and a hot stove throwing a little extra fire my way?
F* you, ol' man winter,
and moreover,
why don't you stop with the overstaying of your welcome?
time's up.
it's over.
get to steppin'.
hit the road.
pound sand.
go away.
this is it, kids,
the last day, and with no end in sight, it's realy just another day.
just like every other one.
hard, long, cold, bitter, broken, and brutal.
the deceptive brightness of the hour belies the absolute zero of infinite space.
thanks for that, winter;
never quiet, never soft.....