It is snowing madly outside like a mad snowing thing. It is, in fact, a winter wonderland. Which by the way March has been so far means that tomorrow should be nice, which is....nice because I'm wandering over Nelson way. Seriously though, why did I let Craig take the car? Also, I am sick.
Remember last week when I posted. Good times. So in my last post I told you that we went to Ainsworth Hot Springs. Here is a story for you:
There is this guy who comes to the pool. I think his name is Bill. He's probably about 70, or maybe under. He's Russian (as is half of the town) and he picks mushrooms. Not the kind popular amongst teenagers, he picks pine mushrooms, when you can get a nice chunk of change for. He has a pine mushroom tattooed on his arm so that even when he has a bad mushroom picking day, he still always has one. We are good friends and like to discuss the wildlife in our backyards, the snowpack, ect.
When he found out I was going to Ainsworth he started telling me how I haaaad to go into the cold pool. The cold pool? Well it is very cold. 4 degrees celcius. I haven't gone in there since I was a stupid kid. But he went on and on raving about it. How great it is for you health, how once you jump into the hot water again your whole body feels so alive. There are no words for this feeling, he tells me.
So we go to Ainsworth. And I don't go in the cold pool (because dude, it's 4 degrees!). And of course Bill asks me the next day how I liked it. And I cannot lie.
And now everytime I walk past him he hisses "Chicken!" at me.
Every. Time.
I should have just gone in the pool.
