You know how people say "this must be for a reason" when they find themselves in the midst of miserable things? I've decided that the reason for some of the tribulations I have endured is to ensure that I never again think things are bad. I started for a moment to call this post "Middle of Nowhere" but then I gave my head a shake and reminded myself that this town has several businesses which are not snowmobile dealerships, is located on a paved highway that is usable twelve months of the year, and in either direction one can reach an international airport. That is not the middle of nowhere. It might however be the near edge of nowhere.
It's nine p.m. and I'm not especially interested in the healthy snacks I have in the room. I want some chocolate or candy. There's a vending machine upstairs in the hotel, but the selection isn't great, so I asked Google maps for "seven eleven near" my address. It produced two, equidistant and each over 50 km away. Oh, right. Let's not be so picky, Aviatrix. I tried "convenience store near." Nothing nearer. How about "stores near." See? Lots of stores.
The nearest one is a Cat Rental Store. I entertain the image of sharing my hotel room with a nice furry rental kitty just long enough to click on the link. They rent bulldozers and winter illumination. There's also a Trailer Store, a 24-hour lock shop, and a Flooring Gallery. Booming metropolis. In Weasel there were no trained trades people, so the competence displayed in the execution of anyone's floor, driveway or appliance installation was a reflection of the competence of the householder and householder's circle of friends.
Also there's a gas station across the street, but after all that, I decide I don't need a chocolate bar. Life is good, down south here in the Cold Lake area.