The ultimate fantasy for any American: A white christmas ... with $1000s of presents under the tree. As a Coloradoan, I'll just take the white Christmas. We never get one, it's always balmy for some reason.
But not this year! It's been blowing cold from Canada. Heck, from the North Pole I think.
This morning I briefly went outside. It's my Thursday morning ritual to collect the milk bottles from the cooler (today acting as a warmer) and bring it inside.
The thermometer read something like -5 F degrees. Suddenly I thought, "Hey, I'm becoming a true Colorado native. The 10 seconds outside weren't that cold."
Then I went out for the rest of the bottles. As the cooler top closed, I heard an extra click. Huh, what was that? I turned around to see Max peeking through the window at me. He couldn't see through the door because it was closed.
jiggle, jiggle.
Locked. Locked? Locked.
Dang. KATHYYYYYYY!!!!
She's in the bathroom, can't hear me. Getting cold.
The kind of cold where your sneeze freezes before it hits the ground. The kind of cold that makes your testicles close up shop and go hang out in your armpits.
Dang. Max, open the door please. "No, Daddy, there's snow on the rug, wet, wet."
Max, open the door. Now. Puhhleeeeze? Remember how good Daddy's been to you this morning!
(I have been good to him this morning, right?)
Oh boy.
Slippers, -5 F, thin flannel PJs, three inches of new snow swirling around my sock-less ankles.
Huh. Shaved head not seeming like such a hot fashion idea now. Thoughts slowing according to the principles of Physics. No energy, no motion...
MAX!!!!! Come back here. (Where'd he go? Oh, good, he's looking out the window and waving. How cute).
Bailey Doggy! Go get Mommy! No, don't wag, go, Go, GOOO! Dang it. No treats for you!
The kind of cold that makes you think, just for a second, that maybe you'd forego a white Christmas for a while. Hey? Is that Bing Crosby I hear?
Max, come to the door... that's it, good... Now, remember how I told you never to open this door when it's locked? (Oh gawd, why did I ever say that?)
It's snowing again. How ironic. Alanis? Hello? Alanis?
The kind of cold that makes your wireless Internet connection go as slow as a teenager waking up on Saturday morning, as slow as the IRS refunding money, as slow as...
Hey! Look. A thank you note from the Milkman. Maybe I can burn it for warmth...
Maxwell William Fisher. Pretty please? Open the, yessss, turn the handle, good, I know it's hard, go ahead, turnnnnn, a little more... Yea!
:-)
Merry Christmas everyone!
Posted by BilFish at December 23, 2004 08:52 AM