You have to be kidding me…

What have I done to deserve this? I know it is April, and April is the cruellest month, but surely close to 15 cm of snow is too much. It certainly is for me. Ottawacker Jr. had to break out his snowshoes again. While I baulked at hitching up the reindeer, it wasn’t far off it.
 
Still, every cloud, and all that. Mrs. Ottawacker told me she’d get the bus into her meetings, so I was spared that particular errand – instead, I went through the “corrections” my proofreader made to the first of the translations I had sent through, noting that no matter how many times I use the words “the client uses this phrase”, it always comes back as something different. Once I had done the revisions, I got down to more of the same, looking up only occasionally at the thick white flakes piling up outside.
 
Mid-afternoon, I decided I had had enough for the day, and so did a few chores. I also dived into the passport application for which I had got my photo done yesterday. This was incredibly simple – I was impressed. And then I saw my passport photo. Oh. My. God. I am going to get stopped every time I go through passport control. I look like the type of person who gets put on registers. In hindsight, I should have had a shave and not gone to my Arthritis Society appointment dressed like a slightly more unkempt version of Hagrid. (It was, though, a spur-of-the-moment decision… otherwise I’d still be planning when I can get the photo done.)
 
Sighing, I attached the photo, paid the £132 for a passport (£132? What?) – and then set about scanning my Canadian passport and printing off the scans to include with my old British passport in the additional documents I have to send via the mail package that accompanies my online application. This sort of defeats the purpose of applying online, but whatever, it’s all done now.
 
Ottawacker Jr. came home with a black eye. Well done whoever did that, he’s been asking for it for a while. (Just kidding, he got a frozen ball in the face while playing soccer at recess.) Switched on the internet and found that Arsenal had beaten Real Madrid 3-0. Well done the Arse. (As long as they get beaten in the next round, that is.) My loathing of all things Real Madrid has not diminished. I can tolerate Arsenal as long as I never have to listen to their fans.