 The Title, Fifty Shades Of Grey, Was Already Taken
I wanted a sunny day. Okay, maybe a whole day of sunshine was getting greedy. I would–do-cartwheels-even-though-I’d-probably-break-a-hip-if-I-did–settle for a few paltry hours of the yellow stuff. But no.
This day, like so many others of late, held all the appeal and color of a dank and dingy dishrag. Remember dishrags? Do they still make those? Grandma and Mom always had one straddling the sink edge like a miniature cotton cowboy. Even though the cloth had been through a bajillion dishwashing episodes, once it dried it was like waffled cardboard. Musty smelling waffled cardboard no less. You could fling one of those bad-boys at a brother and leave a mark. Not that they had a clue what a dishrag was. Did they ever have to wash dishes? NO. Mom’s little testosterone fav’s they were. Sorry! I got off on a memory tangent there. Where was I? Oh yes.
I wanted a sunny day because my Vitamin D levels are screaming for a refill and because I’m tired of going from grey to black to grey to black to grey to black as each short day succumbs to each long night. I wanted a sunny day to at least pretend winter is waning, and because the closest thing to a winter vacation we’re taking is a quick trip to Chicago. I enjoy Chicago…but it’s not what I would call a winter getaway. Not when the beaches have six feet of ice and snow washed ashore. This fact seems to get lost on my beloved husband even though I’ve been bringing it up for over twenty years. Baby steps in the marriage communication department, I guess.  Oops! Another digression.
To Get My Sunny Day, I Decided I Would Either Have To:
Travel to the sunshine. Not going to happen. I have obligations* and a husband who wants to go to Chicago. In the winter. For vacation.- Buy virtual reality glasses. (Do they have anything with Sam Elliot pretending to rub oil on my body at the beach? No? Well, forget it then.
- Take a deep breath; look at a photograph of the sun while searing my hand on an old-fashioned light bulb.
Yeah. I’m Screwed
All the time I was thinking that I’ve lived in Minnesota for (insert a commercial break, la la la) years, and no appendages have fallen off from frostbite or lack of light yet. I can get through another winter stretch of grey. I may not like it, but I can do this. Once I poured a healthy glass of chardonnay, pulled out the Chicago brochure to view all the things you can’t do in the winter months, and questioned my husband’s idea of fun winter vacations, I was okay. No, better than okay. I figure one more glass of wine, or two—three at the most—and endless grey skies will be the best part of my day.
*The cats are not going to feed themselves. They told me that right after their usual 22-hour nap.
That is hilarious, Gail! I would love to get out of this grey world…and struggle every year with the feeling of claustrophobia that comes over me…I actually have to force myself to go outside of the house, or I literally would not go out and face this frigidity…I know why the smart animals hibernate, and the snow geese fly south…I would if I could…I see other people’s photos of Hawaii or the Caribbean…the technicolor vacations and the carefree smiling faces…Sometimes, I think I hate my own friends…I do not….It is just winter blues…The only way through it is a deep faith that Spring will come and a sense of humor doesn’t hurt either…xoxox
Sometimes I look at Tad and wonder why he loves winter. He has never wanted to become a snowbird, which means I will not become a snowbird either. My life is with him come blizzard or heat wave. That said, let’s you and I have an understanding. We could do with less winter and a lot more warmth!