Cold times …
I hate the cold.
People think I’m weird when I soften up ice-cream in the microwave. I save money by drinking pop off the store shelf instead of from a pop machine. I dry my hands after de-hooking a fish, not for cleanliness but because the water is cold. One of my hobbies is hiking up hills because, hey, isn’t heat supposed to rise?
Winter has very few good points. I am a deadly shot with snowballs, then my hands freeze and my kids get revenge. I have never tried downhill skiing because things frozen in liquid nitrogen shatter when struck, and I think of this as I watch skiers go around trees. I tried cross country skiing. You know something; you can’t hear everybody laughing at you when your ears are constantly buried in a foot of snow. I love fishing for fish; who in their right mind would fish for ice? Since I started losing my hair, I definitely wear stocking caps. I don’t care if the cap is pink with tassles and my daughter calls me a thief.
I don’t have any patience. When someone says, “Yeah, when (that place) freezes over!” then I imagine eternity sitting up 100 feet on the South Pole. I don’t wait around for things when that is said.
While some guys are not bothered by pretty girls giving them the cold shoulder, it bothers me. Hey, I don’t even eat cold-cuts. I have never been in fashion because the fancy “cool” clothes leave me cold. If cold is supposed to sometimes be good, why is a fast car called “hot”? If you are getting closer to a goal you are getting warmer. An exciting discussion is a heated argument.
I love South Dakota, but I still don’t like the winters here. I have spit and watched it freeze in mid-air to roll across the tundra. Digging out my car is expected. Scraping my windows (inside and out) is expected. Thawing out my spare engine oil is not.
I have a stubborn friend who once tried to convince me South Dakota winters were not all that bad. I listed off the storms and blizzards that have closed Interstate 90. He muttered something like, “Yeah, but those are warm blizzards.”
Last night I let my wife go to bed before I did. That way she would be the one to have to warm the bed. I was getting cold. I began shivering as I undressed for bed. She was asleep as I crawled under the covers. In my huddling under the four or five quilts, I did something by accident. I swear it was an accident. I accidentally let my cold feet lay up against my wife’s warm legs.
I think I’ll be okay in a few days.