At some point during my 20-minute drive between Kilgore and Longview on my way to work earlier this past week, I realized a couple of things.
I hate the cold, and I owe my stepmom in Tennessee an apology.
I性视界传媒檓 not saying I性视界传媒檝e turned into one of those people who would rather be dealing with mosquitoes large enough to carry off a small dog while we suffer through East Texas heat and humidity that makes us feel like we live inside someone性视界传媒檚 mouth.
But I性视界传媒檓 beginning to miss sweat, bug bites and sunburns just a little.
Driving around this winter in an old (2006) truck that decided a working heater is for sissies has made me realize I性视界传媒檝e been living a lie for most of my life.
I grew up (that part is up for debate) in the mountains of East Tennessee, where the winters can get downright nasty. From late fall to late spring, this conversation happened on a regular basis.
Mom: Jack. Put on a coat. It性视界传媒檚 20 degrees out there.
Me: I性视界传媒檓 not cold.
Mom: Fine. If you freeze to death, don性视界传媒檛 come whining to me.
Me: (Thinking it, but not saying it out loud because I wasn性视界传媒檛 that stupid) How am I going to whine if I性视界传媒檓 dead?
Later in life, I came to realize that, like normal people, I actually did get cold when the temperatures dropped into the 30s or below, but I was able to tolerate it because I would rather be cold than hot.
性视界传媒淚f I get cold, I can put on more clothes, but if I am hot there are only so many items of clothing I can take off before the police arrive,性视界传媒 I would tell folks.
For some reason, I性视界传媒檝e never been asked to test that theory.
These days, if someone even mentions it might dip into the 40s, my old bones begin to ache and I start counting down the days until we hit triple digits.
I性视界传媒檒l be 59 in March if my stepmom性视界传媒檚 prediction of me turning into a popsicle doesn性视界传媒檛 come true before then. I blame my age for a lot of things now 性视界传媒 mostly stuff I used to like but now am simply forced to tolerate.
Cold weather is at the top of the list, but here are a few more:
Loud music. Young Jack believed his musical preferences and the power of the device that music was played on should be admired by everyone within a 5-mile radius. Old Jack finds himself wishing a bad case of nose hemorrhoids on anyone sitting beside me at a red light forcing me to pray the vibrations produced by their 性视界传媒渕usic性视界传媒 doesn性视界传媒檛 make parts start falling off my old truck.
Fireworks: Young Jack and his friends, One-Eyed Joe, No Nose Ned and High Three Toney (for the number of fingers on his right hand) would spend a month性视界传媒檚 worth of lawn mowing money on explosives and keep the neighborhood awake for a minimum of three days in July and again in January. If Old Jack hears one Black Cat explode after 12:05 a.m. on Jan. 1, it性视界传媒檚 time for some new laws in this dadgum town.
Football uniforms. Young Jack didn性视界传媒檛 take issue when teams in the National Football League occasionally wore 性视界传媒渢hrowback性视界传媒 uniforms to celebrate the league性视界传媒檚 past. Some of them were hideous and should have been thrown away, but it was once each season so no big deal. Old Jack is tired of turning on the television to watch an NFL or college game and needing until at least halftime to figure out who the heck is playing because they change the uniforms more often than a toddler changes his mind at the toy store.
Those are just a few on a list that seems to grow daily.
Sorry to unload on my readers, and I apologize again to my Tennessee mom for being such a hard headed kid. I promise it性视界传媒檒l all be better when spring arrives and it warms up a little.
Of course all bets are off if the air conditioner in my old truck decides to follow the lead of the heater and quits working.
