Accounts of living in Yellowknife (a work in progress, this site and my life)

Saturday, February 25, 2006

Why did that coffee cost so much?

Now that I have started working I have started in on the coffee. So far only a cup or two in the morning; hovever, even such a slight addiction has its consequences. Three days ago I broke my coffee pot. Smashed it while washing something completely unrelated. It was truly catastrophic - I still get teary eyed thinking about it.

Now I buy coffee in the mornings. It's good. However, today I went and had the most expensive cup of cofee that ive ever had. Even more expensive than the one on the Champs d'elysees.... and that was out and out extortion that was (but good). It wasn't as though I had intended to break the bank on this particular instance of indulgence. You see, the price of this coffee involved my hat.

It went down like this: I walked 10mins. in -30C weather at 9am (yes, I fully acknowledge this as a sign of severe caffeine addiction) and entered the foyer of the 20-something storey green and cement coloured building that houses the one and only coffee shop in town. I took off my one glove, and then the other. Then (pay close attention as this is an important plot element) I doffed (look it up) my toque. Proceeding to the counter I rifled through my pockets looking for the requisite $1.98. Now, here you may think that $1.98 isnt bad for coffee... but wait - where's my toque at?!

After tipping 2 cents, I sit down to savour my purchase. I toss my gloves onto the table, take off my coat and burn my lips on the scalding coffee. Everything appears as it should be, yet something is missing. Something is wrong. Suddenly, a thought occurs - Where is my hat? Its warm inside, but suddenly my head goes cold. I look around. Root through pockets (mine mostly). After a thorough search I decide its a lost cause. Someone has pinched my misplaced toque (may it grow fungus and make them bald). I figure theres probably a huge black market for toques up here.

So today I looked for a replacement toque, coffee pot, returned my snowshoes, and got beer. Tonight is going to -35C so I'm not planning on going out. The return (potentially having fun) on the investment (me going out alone, freezing, paying for overpriced beer) is not enough to motivate me to move from my warm apartment tonight.

As for tomorrow, the idea of snowshoeing is dead (for now, so maybe its more "just in a coma" than "dead"). In conversations at work various people have mentioned the 9 foot snowdrifts that make any sort of winter wilderness exploration dangerous.... one minute you're walking along, the next you're wondering if this is how igloos were invented and if so, how the person climbed out to invent it.

I'll find something to do I imagine, hopefully - more on this tomorrow.

3 Comments:

Blogger A. Rae said...

It's spelled "toque", eh? I always thought it was spelled "tuke", but I think that's because I've never seen it in print. And as close to the dang border we were growing up, no one ever knows what I'm saying when I call my hat a toque. I'm glad I know how to spell it now. And who takes someone else's stocking hat? That's rude. I'm just saying.

9:58 PM

 
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Ou tuque ... la vérsion francaise (a variant spelling in the Canadian Oxford English Dictionary, which is a book far more influential than the Canadian PRess Style Guide when it comes to dictating the rules of Canadian English).

This is how bored I get down here sometimes Benjamin. More tree photos, please.

10:36 PM

 
Blogger A. Rae said...

Your vernacular trickles across the border without duty and checks, so that folks from Pembina County in North Dakota sound bilingual. ;)

9:59 AM

 

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