I’m not overly fond of cold weather, although it does kill the grass until spring and frees me from having to mow the lawn at least once a week.
And, my word! My Honda Civic, which automatically calculates gas mileage, goes down from an average of 29 mpg in-town driving to 21 or 22. Partially because I have to run the car a little while to defrost it and warm the inside just a tad. And partially because the tire pressure warning light comes on periodically and it takes me a while to get around to dropping by WaWa to fill up with free air.
Regardless of what I said in the previous paragraph, I’m normally a cheapskate when it comes to gas. If I see a line at the Sonic drive-through, I park and order from a stall. If I find myself delayed at the drive-through and think I’ll be there more than a minute, I turn off the engine. Same when I’m stopped at a railroad crossing.
I used to like cold weather better than hot weather. But, with the coming of age, I’ve reversed my preference.
And it has nothing to do with gas or grass. It has to do with kissing. And touching.
Touching almost anything.
Cold weather in our house means that almost everything I touch shocks me. I always hear it, and—more times than I like to think about—I even see the spark.
I’ve grown paranoid about it this winter (more than before, I mean). I’m tempted to put on gloves before touching the front door handle, even if I’m not going outside. I touch the plastic part of the pet gate latch first in the hopes the static electricity will leave me alone for once. I tiptoe across the carpet to try to prevent static buildup. I haven’t totally given up the idea of dragging a chain wherever I walk inside to ground myself.
Remaining well grounded is important for a sixty-seven-year-old man, anyhow, isn’t it?
But the most shocking problem of all occurs when Kathleen and I kiss. In all likelihood, one of us has just scuffed across the carpet, and kissing becomes an electrifying experience. Kissing isn’t supposed to be painful, is it? Or something to be apprehensive about doing?
I don’t know how to solve my other shock problems, but now Kathleen and I touch fingertips before kissing. Better to shock that way and get it out of the way so we can have a safe, spark-free kiss.
Exciting kisses are one thing. But shocking ones are awful.
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By the way, “On Aging Gracelessly” isn’t my only blog. I use “As I Come Singing” to post lyrics of the Christian songs I’ve written over the last fifty years. Free lead sheets (tune, words, and chords) are available for many of them. Because I’ve used up all of my songs, I repost a previous post each Wednesday. If you’re interested, please check that blog out here.