Have you ever gotten a little crack in the skin at the corner of your thumb? (God, I sound like Andy Rooney, which makes me want to go pluck my eye brows.) It’s kind of like a paper cut, this crack, but it’s caused by how dry the air is, now that winter’s here. I get these things no matter how much moisturizer I put on. Sure, it looks small and insignificant, but when I’m lying in bed and that tiny spot starts to throb, forget sleeping. I mean, the whole world is just that crack on my thumb and Charlie’s snoring.
It’s winter! I mean we’ve had snow on the ground for a weeks here in Mahoosuc Mills. Pretty, too, that first snow. Always creeps up on me. This year I was cashing out a line of customers at the A&P, and someone goes, “Oh, look! It’s snowing!” And we all gaze out the big window, smilin’ with a sense of wonder. Come January, that childish delight has a way of disappearing.
But here’s what I don’t understand. It’s winter right? All you have to do is look at the thermostat. Yet, just the other day, this teenage boy comes into the A&P wearing a short sleeved shirt, polar fleece vest and shorts. It’s below freezing, for crying out loud! Or a young woman in her twenties, I’d say, with a short skirt, bare legs, Uggs and a polar fleece jacket. I mean, what the heck? If it’s cold enough to wear polar fleece, it’s too cold for bare arms or legs and summer clothing of any sort! I mean, come on people! Give it up!
I can kind of understand it in March, when forty degrees seems almost tropical. But not in December. It makes my feet cold just thinking about it.
‘Course, my feet are always cold. Well, maybe for a few weeks in July, they warm up, but that’s it. Come winter, I’m wearing two pair of socks in the house. And even then, I have to soak my feet in the hottest water I can stand before puttin’ on polar fleece socks and getting’ into bed, where I sleep (or try to anyways) with our electric blanket on high. In Charlie’s opinion, the dual control electric blanket is one of the best inventions of the last century. It allows him to snooze in Labrador while I’m in Bermuda.
I was hoping that menopause would kind of reset my personal thermostat, but no go. It’s amazin’ to me that I can be sweating on the nape of my neck, while my feet are two little blocks of ice. Where’s the justice?
The good news is that my cold feet almost take my mind off the crack in my thumb. Almost!
Bundle up, folks, and remember to cover your mouth when coughing. I still use my hand because coughin’ into my elbow, that just smears lipstick on my sweaters. Who come up with that one?
That’s it for now. Catch you on the flip side!
Need a laugh during the holidays? Check out my Christmas videos:
The Twelve Days of Christmas, Maine Style
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