For Leap Day, I was being a good husband, shovelling the driveway, slick with a sheen of ice camouflaged by a light dusting of fluffy snow. I wanted to clean off the white stuff so that the missus wouldn't have to after work, as I was departing for Ottawa for the week. Upon finishing, I congratulated myself on a job well done, before promptly slipping and falling awkwardly while on my victory march back towards the garage, where I intended to stow my trusty shovel. Sadly, said traitorous shovel would smack me square in the mouth as I freefell to the icy pavement, leaving me with a swollen upper lip and a gnarly cut inside my mouth that hurt only slightly less than my bruised ego. I cussed out the shovel (henceforth known as Judas) as violently as it had struck my unexpecting face. I'm sure onlookers would have laughed at the absurdity of a grown man yelling (literally, YELLING) at a shovel.
And so off to the airport I went, biting my upper lip in a permanent mock imitation of a person in thought, as a way of hiding from passersby the embarrassing end result of a one sided bar brawl with a household tool. You better hope my inner rage cools before I get home shovel, or I'm gonna introduce you to my friend, Mr. Wood Chipper.
Thanks for nothing, Leap Day. First, a shovel to the face. Second, someone informs me that being a salaried civil servant means I'm working for free today. Third, I get stuck in line at airport security behind someone whose 'bodily aroma' was akin to a stale microwaved blue cheese croissant. Fourth, buddy in the seat ahead of me decides the plane is his own personal lazy boy, reclining right into my lap.
And since we're on the topic of working for free for the state, here's a photo of me with the original Commies, Comrades Marx and Engels:
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