Life's a Bench, Then You Sigh

Friday was the first time I got out after the Monday snow storm. It was the first time temperatures rose above freezing in 10 days. 

Country Mart had only cleared one end of their sidewalk. I had to park way down at the end of the building, where they've closed off the doors that used to let you in at the deli and pharmacy end. The management hasn't really posted a notice that those doors are closed. Instead, the doors no longer open automatically as you walk up, AND they've put a bench in front of them.

When I parked, there were two men sitting on the bench, their workboot-clad feet propped on the snowdrift. As you can see, the sun was shining, and the 41-degree temperature was melting the snow. One man was wearing overalls and a t-shirt, the other jeans and a flannel shirt. They reminded me of Hee Haw, like Buck and Roy sitting around shooting the bull. I'm pretty sure that puddle is snow melt. That Flannel Shirt, sitting on that end, didn't take a pee. We're not heathens. There was a BUCKET available, for cryin' out loud!

These men were around 60 years old. They were scratching lottery tickets, and making small talk. I climbed out of T-Hoe, sighing at the long walk I was about to inflict on my knees. I move so slow that I heard a chunk of their conversation.

Overalls: "If it wasn't for the snow, it'd be plumb hot!"

Flannel Shirt: "I know. I've got on long johns, and I'm about to sweat to death."

When you've gotten used to ZERO, and a few degrees below, a sunny 41-degree day can indeed feel like a heat wave. I didn't even need my jacket that I'd worn out of habit.

The bench-warmers were gone when I came out, so I got a picture. I'm not one to put total strangers on my blog. Except for that plumber's-crack guy a couple months ago...