Thursday, January 23, 2014

Don't Let Anybody Tell You That Cleanliness is Next to Warmthiness

When it comes to cold, I have no shame.

I really, really did not want to venture outside to get to work this morning. I was cold all day Wednesday, at a balmy 32 degrees, weather that would have an Ice Road Trucker clomping about in flip-flops, cut-off jeans, and a wife beat   ribbed sleeveless tank undershirt. I was cold when I got up this morning. Cold making The Pony's lunch. Cold in the shower. Cold out of the shower. Cold under my soft blankie snuggled into the folds of Hick's La-Z-Boy for my morning chair nap. And...cold while sticking an arm out to hold the phone while calling my mom, cold eating breakfast, cold getting dressed.

I could take it no more. "Pony, I'm going to wear my old sweatshirt in the car this morning. I know it is all stretched out. I know it has an orange spot of vegetable beef soup on the baby-blue neck trim. It's just for the car. And the walk into the building under my coat. I'll take it off inside. Then put it back on to come out. Nobody will see it. I have to be warm. I can't drive in a coat."

Yeah. My old sweatshirt friend rode along to work with me like a second skin. It did nothing to warm my hands in my new Christmas gloves that are two inches too long for my fingers (and, some say, not even MINE), and nothing to warm my feet inside my shoes that felt like blocks of ice. But my core was warm. And my buttocks, too, as soon as the seat heater kicked in, which was not soon enough, if you ask my buttocks. Strike that. You really don't want to hear them talk.

I might have to take Baby Blue along for the ride again in the morning. I might even toss him into the washer when I go to bed, and into the dryer when I get up. Hick might be onto something with that "dry soup" concept. No dripping, no staining. A clean sweatshirt suitable for more wearings between washings.

Though I might miss out on that soupy sustenance if T-Hoe goes off the road and I have to survive in the car for several days.

5 comments:

  1. Maybe you could drive in a Snuggy. Heated seats? Nice!

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  2. But if T-hoe DOES go off the road and you're stuck in the snowy mountains (hills), don't worry.

    I'm your biggest fan. If you're reported as missing, I'll start driving the countryside looking for you.

    However, if you don't write for me, I might get a bit cranky...

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  3. There is NOTHING like an old sweatshirt friend and heated car seats to make life better in cold weather. In fact an old sweatshirt friend is even better than that draggin' blankey from our terrible twos. Better hugging for one, and, like the blankey, it may have to be slipped in and out of the laundry whilst the owner is asleep.

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  4. Several days alone in a car might provide you with some well-deserved rest and quiet time. Besides, after a day or two I'm sure your family would begin a hunt for you.

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  5. joeh,
    I have a Snuggie! It was a Christmas present a couple of years back, when my guys actually gave me Christmas presents, unlike this year, when they wrapped a pair of gloves, and upon my unwrapping, frowned and said, "Those aren't yours."

    ******
    Sioux,
    Thank goodness the Madam Patrol is on the case, with a cask of Diet Coke strapped under the chin, cruising the byways of Backroads for my missing person. Write? What do you suggest, that I sear my flesh with T-Hoe's cigarette lighter to send up smoke signals for your reading pleasure?

    *****
    Leenie,
    I confess. I did not toss my very special sweatshirt into the laundry. But I DID wear it again in secret. AND I almost drove off and left it in my classroom cabinet for the weekend. Only the chill of T-Hoe's cold leather seats reminded me upon imminent departure.

    *****
    Stephen,
    It would be so comfy, a couple of days in the car, warming my buns, answering to no one. Family, schmamily! Madam in on the hunt. She won't demand sandwiches the moment I'm rescued.

    ReplyDelete