Now I Have A Machine Gun

This morning I looked outside and everything was white. Yes, white. Snow.
It didn't stay, though. It was gone before noon.

Two days ago, while climbing on top and behind the giant coolers in the store (to retrieve merchandise that has been there probably for years), I ripped a hole in my pants.

Yesterday I forgot to deal with this hole in my pants.

Today I remembered. So I took my old green sewing set (curtesy of German army) and sat down to fix this. It was a pretty basic rip, about 3 centimeters long, then a 90 degree angle and another 3 centimeters.
Well, I'm no seamstress, but they taught me the basics in school (grade 3, I think). First I considered sewing a patch of other fabric behind it, for stability. But then I thought 'fuck that' and I just sewed it together, looping 'round and 'round and 'round, 'round the corner, and 'round and 'round til the end and then the whole thing again backwards. I did this on the inside of the pants, of course.
When I was done I looked at my work and what came to my mind immediately was the old saying:

Not beautíful, but rare.

It looks like a scar. Sewn up under gunfire or in some dark backroom by a disgraced surgeon. Too bad I didn't have whisky in the house. I would have liked to disinfect my needle in it.

Deja Vu: Civilization V is out. I like it. What you miss though is the sense of achievement after winning a game. No replay of your growing empire anymore. No graphics showing where your culture jumpstarted, your science rocketed, your points soared high. Just demographics, and the button: Back to Main Menu. Kind of dis-rewarding. Patch, please.

I think tomorrow maybe I'll buy myself a handsaw (one of those they literally call fox-tail in Germany: a tool with a long blade with sharp teeth along one edge that is used with one hand only). I have collected quite a few small wooden boards from work (they put them in packages to protect long bendable things like curtain rods from transport damage), and maybe I have enough to build something nice. A doghouse perhaps. I might have to liberate one or two two-by-fours from the construction site nearby, although I'd rather avoid that.

Oh, I think for some reason they have mentioned now at least three times who they'd like to be the supermarket Santa Claus this year: me. They want to make my beard white.
I also had a brief talk about religion today in the staff room. Talks about religion are always something one should not commit to. One should especially avoid saying things like:

"No, I'm not baptized. But I was at a baptism of a friend once. There was a guy in a costume who held a speech and then made everybody drink red wine out of the same cup and then he gave people crackers and then he put some water on my friends forehead. So what the fuck that's good for?"

The answer was: "You're evil."

Well, I guess coming to town this year is goold old Satan Claus. Ho-Ho-Ho!