Me, rambling nonsensically about winter in my old age
It's raining.
Tomorrow (Tuesday) the rain is supposed to change into snow.
If you need me, I'll be wrapped in multiple layers of clothing underneath multiple layers of blankets.
I have become a complete wuss about cold weather in my old age.
(What? Yes, of COURSE 41 is old. Trust me.)
When I was younger, old people would say strange things about how the coldness would go "right through their bones".
I, of course, always assumed that they were stark raving crazy people, and that I was the only normal one on the planet.
Now that I'm slowly realizing I am the crazy one, I'm also adopting their "old" thoughts about cold weather.
I'm cold a lot. It goes right through my bones.
Maybe that's why I like hot spicy things so much.
The nice thing is that I also hate hot humid weather, so I have equal opportunities to complain.
In the meantime, I hear some more blankets calling my name.
.
5 comments:
41 isn't old. Oh wait, maybe it is a little because I'm on track to catch it in a couple of weeks. It's the old and weak that predators can catch, you know.
And the blankets -- do they call your name like a ghost with rattling chains? "jaaaaaaaaahnnnnaaaaaah". Or is it more like whispered softly? Or do they obnoxiously yell out to try and surprise you and make you jump? "(waits...) JANNA!"
41's nothing. I turn 60 in April.
Impressive how I've learned to use this internet thingy at my age, eh?
I think 60's the new 41!
Whall: Mostly it's whispered softly. Sometimes with the unmistakable scent of fabric softener. The odd thing is that I don't use fabric softener...
nonamedufus: Wow, really? Does the cold go straight through your bones too?
Oh, I wish. At my age it tends to linger and overstay it's welcome.
nonamedufus: You could try charging rent...
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