A council estate raised British city girl trying to make it in rural Canada

aaaaaaaaaaaand its gone.

12:29, Thursday 10 January 2013 .. 1 comments .. Link

The boxing day sales are wicked for, well, saley type things. :)

We treated oursleves to lots of luvverly stuff (which is what we do at christmas, small gift on xmas day each, and then hit the malls to splurge on boxing day!)

In one of the thousands of flyers that come through the door (most of which you bin, or burn right?) there was one for Bass Pro shops. That's Darcys favourite shop ever. If he died, he would want to be buried there. It's really that special.

They had an Ice fishng shack up for sale down from like $900 to $450 (or something) which, if you are looking for an ice fishing shack (isn't everyone??? yeah, don't answer that) is a baragin.

So we buy it.

And the next day he gets it out of the box, loses his patience and goes sledding.

Fast forward a few days and we have the thing set up.

This is it set up

This is what it looks like from inside

And this is what it looks like when its folded down n the back of my truck (notice MY truck - read the next entry for explanation of why Darcys truck isn't being used to plough through snow on frozen lakes)

Wicked eh! Or it would bebecause the photos above do not relate to the day that is in question. As in - the first day we decided to all go out ice fishing.

Its two days after the "ride your sled home" incident. Conner, I and Darcy have the shack set up, loaded in Darcys truck and are excited to get out on the ice. It's bloody cold and very windy. Now Darcys truck has a tool box in the back, which means the shack doesn't sit flat in the bed, but as it's quite heavy he decides that we don't need to strap it down as we aren't going that far.

We are both however, checking the rear view mirrors as the tarp that covers the shack is blowing like a bastard in the wind.

All of a sudden..............

Fucking WHOOOSH

"Holy shit it's gone..........." Darcy yells.

"What the tarp, shit, fuck"

"NO THE WHOLE FUCKING LOT"

Slams anchors on. We jump out of the truck, and there, 50 feet behind the truck on the road, is the shack.

Darcy LOSES it. Yelling and effing and blinding, though I do resist the urge to say "I told you so" about tieing it down. Now we spend 20 minutes salvaging pieces of the frame - which considering the speed it flew out at, held together quite well, and trying to rebuild it ON THE BLOODY HIGHWAY (have you ever smiled and waved at passing cars, while building an ice fishing shack in the middle of a road???? Let me tell you right now - it's emabarassing.)

Unbelievably, we manage to piece it back together, and only lose one pole. So carry on the journey (strapping the shack down) and go fishing. To top it off though, we don't catch anything.

I'm wondering if he'll ever learn and maybe listen to what his wife says for once ;)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 




Untitled Comment

09:27, Monday 21 January 2013 .. Posted by BEVS
That's called 'karma' :-)

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