Hockey Garage

When I say I hate hockey it means I have been watching more hockey than I usually do. It starts every Christmas. Sometimes I even watch whole games. Any team will do. Even the Leafs.

I would like to say the Canucks will kick ass in the spring if they are a reasonably healthy unit but I did not like the way the Canucks responded to a violent Calgary team last night. The Canucks may not have a violent enough edge to survive four rounds of play-off hockey.

I like seeing my local AHL team getting a few of its games on television. It only makes sense. Beats the fuck out of watching people play motherfucking cards on television.

There was not much going on in the world of hockey today so I took advantage of our warm mid-winter day to clean out the garage. Sorted out the Christmas empties, which I get a small pocketful of money for when I take them up to the Chinese at the recycling depot; the rest of the recycling, for which I get nothing; and the garbage; which the government wishes I would not create quite so much of.

I vacuumed and I swept. It was dusty and there were quite a lot of spider webs. No rodents to report.

As I worked I listened to CBC radio. Their voices from Toronto told their Sunday morning stories. I always feel sad for the people from Toronto. Them and their fucking Torontoness. Today Sonja was right: Stuart MacLean was boring as fuck.

I changed a light bulb. One of my last incandescent experiences. It felt good screwing in the power sucking bulb.

You learn things when you are cleaning out your garage. Us humans sure can pile up the crap.

When I was done I turned off the radio, turned on the television, watched football and drank beer. It was dull American football, enlivened only by the promise of the debauchery of the Super Bowl two weeks hence.

The fireplace is cracking and it is just about dinner time. I do not often work on Sundays. Not since they opened up the pubs on the motherfucking Lord's Day.