Old Man Winter and I

Hibernation makes perfect sense to me.

It’s not that I fear the cold. I know I have a coat. I have a warm house to come back into. I have a warm car. It’s probably not cold enough to actually cause me harm unless I stay out for hours on end in a tank top and shorts. I just don’t like it.

I think of Old Man Winter kind of like a really weird roommate.

And not the happy, crazy kind of weird. I’m talking about the kind of weird that eats bowls of ice cream with ketchup while sitting on the sofa intently watching Richard Simmons sweat to the Oldies. I’m talking about the kind of weird that calls your mom Gladys (when your mom’s name is Naomi) and calls her up every now and then to make sure she knows your diet hasn’t been very nutritious lately. I’m talking about the kind of weird that sets an alarm to wake up at 2 in the morning to go and peel the celery. The kind of weird that makes you walk into the room, see that she’s there, and then back out of the room before she notices you’re home.

That’s how I feel about cold weather.

My first reaction is usually, “Oh, no, It’s here,” followed up with, “Why? Why is it cold? Why do I live in a place that makes me feel like this every winter? Why haven’t I moved to New Mexico?” It has its moments. It makes for a festive Christmas. It’s very pretty in the snow. But there’s still a part of me that just looks out the window and wonders if there will ever be a comfortable time to go outside again. I’m not afraid of the cold – I’m just… awkward… about it.

Which is why I rather like the thought of hibernation. It’s like saying, “Oh. Winter. I’m not sure I like you. But you’re leaving – so I’ll just wait for you to leave. And while I’m waiting, here’s a pillow and a sandwich.” Now, what’s uncomfortable about that? Absolutely nothing.

Maybe I should just go get some snow pants and a spine. Or maybe I just need a sandwich and a pillow. Or maybe I should cancel that plane ticket to New Mexico… ♦

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