I'm on a skiing holiday.
It is raining so we're not anywhere on the pistes, instead, I'm slurping my umpteenth coffee as usually at non-holiday time, checking the internetz, carefully poking my research project and generally doing nothing.
Yesterday, the police car stopped under our balcony, the cops got out and started poking the contents of a trashbin. Then they photographed it. Later, they returned, met with the hotel owner who was in charge of the trash bins and had a talk which made the hotel owner not happy at all. Then we went skiing (snowboarding in the case of your truly).
Later in the afternoon, the hotel owner and two more folks were sorting out the trash.
Even later, there were two more guys, all of them had long rubber gloves, they were taking apart the trash bags and processing them somehow.
Today, the police came to check whether the trash has been dealt with.
The last time I was snowboarding was five years and twenty five kilos ago. I feel muscles of whose existence I did have a clue, after all, as a kid with artistic vein, I redrew half of the anatomy atlas. I just wouldn't believe where it can hurt after a bit of physical effort. I should go to the gym more often, apparently.
A while ago, the Swedes that stay above us came back from the pistes, drenched to the bone from the sleet. Mom hid under the duvet and keeps waiting for spring.
On a related note, how long may it take to lose 25 kilos?
The weather is not improving. Dad is making coffee umpteen+1. I'm joining in.
I should've taken some knitting with me. I was told I was an intolerable pessimist when I packed a first-aid kit. At least I have books.