And now in the category of Better Than The Alternative: The scene is D’s job, the time is 6 p.m., and the workers are hemorrhaging like fleas escaping a submerging rat. And W. stops at P’s desk, smacks his palm down flat on the surface and says in a friendly way, “So, what’s your plans for the night, wee man?”
Oh, no, he didn’t.
In T’s family, “Little Man” is the honored nickname of Elf, the 2 year old nephew who is just over thimble-sized and rather loud. Little Man is not something adults call other adults. It’s a… baby name. Or, at least it’s derogatory, and is usually finished with the word “syndrome.” If someone called an adult Californian “little man” or “wee man,” them’s would’ve been fightin’ words — at least really heavy sarcastic rejoinder words. Not so here. P. responded with voluble cheer, and W. and P. wandered out the door and into the dusk together.
D. adds, “The thing is, W. doesn’t even come up to my chin. So, who’s he calling wee?“
Meanwhile, T. is now battling whatever cold thing D. had, but of course, since some people are show-offs, she’s trying to turn it into a sinus and ear infection. OVERACHIEVER!
In her weakened state, T. spends a lot of time swathed in multiple knit things, and since previously the temps have been holding in the low forties, with high pressure giving us chilly, sunny days, all has been well. However, it was 23ºF/-5°C this morning at nine-fifteen when D. left for work, and not even a weak sun was shining through the thick fog. T. met the postman wearing her hair tied up in a bandanna, a comfy turtleneck beneath a thigh-length a sweater, and two pair of pants with her woolen socks and D.’s purloined foot duvet slippers. (Yes, they have a stupid name. Yes, Restoration Hardware is a pretentious store, we don’t shop there. Yes: the most important thing: the slippers were not only a (re)gift, they are really warm.) The postman gave her a look, and shook his head.
“‘S really nae tha cold,” he began, scribbling something on his electronic pad.
“No?” T. inquired politely, waiting to sign for the packages.
“Nae,” he said heartily, warming, as it were, to his theme. “You’d know it if you were out in it. ‘S nae that cold, ’til you bundle up for it. ‘f you were like me, down and topside again, in and out of the truck, you’d see the best thing to do is to just get out in it. You’ve got to embrace the air, y’see.”
“Right.” T. said, grinning. “Embrace the air. I see. You do realize that’s a completely Scottish mentality, right?”
The postman shrugged and headed back downstairs. “I do what I can,” he said modestly.
So, just in case you were unclear, at the time of this posting, T. checked the accuweather.com forecast, and at noon today, it was indeed 27°F/-2°. And T. can now agree with those snowbound from the Northeast, the Northwest, and far flung corners of northern Canada.
Tis nae tha cold atall.
You were too kind to point out that you are sitting still and writing and he’s hiking around the city. Feel better.
Ugh, I feel you on the cold (obviously), but I’m sure it’s way wetter there than here. Hold tight!
Enjoyed this post. 😛
I looked up the food duvets on RH. They’re sold out. Must be really popular. I could use my own just about now. My feet are freezing.
Feel better, T.
Paz
Do you have one of N’s magic corn pillows? If not, we need to send one ASAP. Of course, by the time it arrives in the mail, it will have warmed up so you won’t need it. Is on-the-verge-of-hypothermia-ness good for writing?
When I am out and about these days in our mild weather (hovering around freezing) I am hatless and my jacket is usually open. In the house (unless I am engaged in vigorous cleaning- unlikely) I put on extra socks and sweaters and sometimes even huddle under a fuzzy blanket. I guess that it is all a matter of perspective.