When I was younger I loved winter most of all.
I happily insisted that there was no such thing as being too cold.
Wind chill, blizzards, ice storms, 20-foot drifts…. they were all just paths to greater joy.
I’m almost 40 now.
I’ll be 39 in January.
I’ve seen the error of my ways.
Hey, don’t get me wrong, I still hate summer with a passion. I still hate sunshine and humidity and heat index and that fart-like squeak my feet sometimes make when they sweat in cheap plastic sandals.
But, y’know, the older I get, the more I hate feeling cold.
“Slightly chilly” is ok.
“Oh-my-god-my-bones-are-the-temperature-of-dry-ice” is NOT ok.
This is why I sometimes wear my coat even when I’m indoors.
Yes. I know this means I have turned into an old lady.
Any day now I’ll find myself in a rocking chair, making afghans, mumbling incoherently to myself about how much simpler things were back in the old days.
Oh, wait….
I already did that post.
Things are worse than I thought.
.
Comments 3
Wow. Making afghans is a sign of being old?
Not that I’m capable of making afghans. I’ve failed at that task multiple times.
Posted 25 Nov 2008 at 4:27 pm ¶Take a trip through a nursing home, and you’ll find old ladies wrapped in blankets and wearing parkas because the indoor temperature dipped to 68.
Posted 25 Nov 2008 at 7:02 pm ¶Marilyn: I can crochet them but I can’t knit. Although, my attention span doesn’t usually let me finish the ones I’ve started…
Joe: Will they let me blog in the rest home?
Posted 30 Nov 2008 at 8:53 pm ¶Post a Comment