Cabin Fever

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Ok, if there are dog days of summer, what the hell was last week?  Don’t tell me, “it’s only January” — just agree that it sucks, we don’t deserve this, and you’ll never complain about summer heat ever again. If you’re reading this in Florida, don’t complain that it was in the thirties.

If you’re not about to die outside, you’re inside watching the TV, reading and rereading newspapers or living on Facebook. 

You read things you might not normally come across. I was dismayed to find out our mayor likes to shovel. I mean, I like shoveling, enough. It’s a workout. But I don’t want to be thinking about Bill de Blasio while I lift snow — though it did distract me from the one that hangs above us who’ve reached a certain age. Every time you plunge the shovel in the snow, you wonder if it’ll be the last time. You might remember Fred Sanford from the TV show, Sandford & Sons. It’s hard not to think of good old Fred clutching his chest and declaring that he was about to join his departed wife. “I’m coming, Elizabeth!  This is the big one!”

My son, who will remain nameless, is aware of such dangers and told me to stop shoveling the other day. He told me to go inside. But I caught on. I was outworking him and he didn’t want me on his case about doing a lousy job.

I didn’t go inside, but I did pause long enough to tell him he has to drag me out of the snow, no matter what. I hate the snow and I don’t want it to have the last word on me. My eldest son has a somewhat related final request. The elder has a borderline phobia of the water and has told his younger brother he wants to be cremated but “you better not put my ashes in the ocean. You can put them on the beach but not in the water!”

While back inside, I picked up a few other tidbits, skimming New York Post headlines.

A woman who locked her kids in the car trunk while she shopped at a Walmart in Utah was given probation after being arrested in May.  I thought that was a light sentence, but I haven’t met her kids.

The Post ran a story about a gym that was offering or allowing nude workouts. It’s a good thing Rockaway is always behind the times, so don’t expect any such thing for a decade or so.  And, there’s nothing to the rumor that there’s gonna be a nude ferry.

Speaking of workouts, the Post also had a story about how you can look three years younger by doing face yoga. Hmmm, wouldn’t chewing Mallomars and Rice Crispy treats do the same? I can’t wait to read about face yoga in Be Well, Be Happy.

The brutal cold forced me to do too much internet surfing. A hoax was making the rounds about the President habitually watching a show about gorillas. Well, it seems, a lot of people locked inside because of the cold liked the idea. So much so, Netflix tweeted: “Please stop calling our customer service hotline to ask if we have The Gorilla Channel.”

It’s only January.

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