Biff’s Sunday Morning Musings

man drinking Coffee 02

I’ll have to get this written in a hurry, because very soon it will not be Sunday morning any more.

I hate having to change the title of a piece in the middle of writing it.  Sometimes it’s okay, like when I think of a better title, but when it’s just because it took me so long to write something that the title no longer applies … well … it’s embarrassing.

Anyway, let’s move along before I have to change the title of this, shall we?


Maybe, It’s Cold Outside

It is a cold, blustery day here in Dallas.

And when I say cold, I mean cold by Dallas standards.  It is a mere 39 degrees (4 C), which may be laughable throughout much of the northern hemisphere, but here in Dallas it is considered cold.

It’s not considered “dang cold” though.  It doesn’t get dang cold until it dips below freezing by a good margin.

It will also occasionally get “damn cold” every 4 years or so.  When it is damn cold, it is considered a major weather event.  “Damn cold” is when it gets down into the teens (~ -8 C).  Damn cold pretty much shuts down Dallas and people stay home wondering what we’ve done collectively to warrant this obvious punishment from God.   Whatever it is, we repent of it for awhile, until it warms up, and then we go back to our sinful ways.  That is how repentance works.

To my knowledge, it has never been colder than “damn cold” here in Dallas.  I remember a day back in about 1989 when it got down to 4 degrees ( -15 C) for about a day and a half.  I did not think I was going to survive it.  We all believed that it was the end of time and that no act of penance, no matter how grandiose, would make up for whatever we had done to deserve this.

But this is Dallas.  Two days later it was back up into the 70s (23 C) and we went right back to being who we are.  The cold had no lasting effect on us other than to give us a story to tell on our blogs 30 years in the future.

It hardly seemed worthy all of the fuss.


Prelude to the Kick-off of the Lead-in to the Run-up to the Preparations for the Early Days of the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

My preparations for Christmas have begun in earnest.  Christmas for me officially kicks off when I venture into the attic to get down all of the Christmas stuff.

This is not as easy or as pleasant as it sounds.  Not only is there a lot of it, but it is very difficult to maneuver it through the various levels of the attic, to thread it through the mountains of other non-Christmas grot that is inexplicably stored up there, and to somehow get it through the tiny little portal that the home builder thought would be more than adequate to move things into and out of the attic.

It reminds me of those toys that little children learn eye-hand-coordination skills with by putting the various shaped blocks into the similarly shaped holes.  Getting anything into or out of my attic is exactly like that.  So all of that intensive training I went through as a toddler has really paid off (unlike my college education).

So, anyway, on Friday I got down the massive tree, which is stored in two separate large and unwieldy body bags and pushed to a remote corner of the attic just to make retrieving them extra challenging.  I like the point values for such things to be as high as possible.

I assembled it in the front room completely on my own, which is a “don’t do this” public service announcement (PSA) video you can expect to see on TV this time of year, along with the one about not testing your Christmas light strings while taking a bath.

Anyway, my assembly of the Christmas tree starts off easily enough, but by the time I get to the top of the tree, I’m standing precariously on a kitchen chair on one foot, on tiptoe, stretching at a 45 degree angle out over the rest of the assembled tree.

What could go wrong?

Watch the resulting PSA on TV when it comes out and see for yourselves.

But, in my defense, it is far too much trouble to go get the ladder out of the garage to do this.

Who has time for that sort of thing?

So, yeah, Christmas is officially kicked off now.  All that remains is to decorate the tree, decorate the inside of the house, decorate the outside of the house, go shopping for Christmas presents with no clue what to get anyone, get the Christmas cards ready to mail out, get the Christmas packages mailed out in time to get there by Christmas ….

I am suddenly feeling very stressed out all of a sudden.

I think I need to go lay down.

Luckily, it is still Sunday morning.

I have not had to change the title of this post.

Yet.

 

9 comments

  1. Hello Biff!

    Cue the stories of going to school in absolute zero weather. And I did, Biff. I wore an actual NASA space suit. Houston, my shorts are chafing my tenders.

    As you well know, since you are transitioning into invisibility owing to advanced age, even a little cold effects us greatly. Even though I am from Winnipeg, I have become soft and whine and cry if the mercury goes below 10 celsius. One thing about cold too, it makes you need to pee with great frequency (working outside, me no less than 5 times in the morning). They say it is because of blood pooling around the vital organs, which always seems to me the appetizer dish before the main course, death.

    I enjoyed your tale of your attic adventure! Do you have ghosts or strange sounds that could be rats but are likely the undead? We have no attic, but have a giant closet. Strange noises DO come from there, but they are mice lunching on God knows what.

    We just had a mail strike, which has put all our Xmas mailing out of whack. Being a mail person is one of the most dangerous jobs out there IMO, and that is why they went on strike. Slippery steps and dogs are only the tip of the iceberg. Last week, in fact, I was bitten by a dog, who mistook my calf for a turkey drumstick. Unfortunately the skin was not broken, I could have used the time off. We shook hands and departed amicably.

    (good thing we decided early on to just give everyone the finger for Xmas; no, not THAT finger, Biff, but a beckoning one to come to our place and drink and be merry)

    Wilt

    Liked by 1 person

    • Like my attic, there is a lot in your comment that I will need to unpack before I can address it properly. But I’ll give it a whirl.

      I wonder if, while we’re freezing to death, our brain sends blood to the part of our body that we hold most dear to try an protect it. That would explain why my blood tends to pool up around my humerus.

      I called out an existential exorcist exterminator about the sounds in my attic and, after taking some measurements, determined that I have the ghosts of undead rats from another dimension occupying the same space as my attic. Fortunately, the remedy for this is to leave virtual cheese in non-dimensional traps and the problem will take care of itself.

      I am sorry to hear about your mail strike. The US Postal Service has been on extended strike since the late 1960s. That is why we are always so overjoyed to get a letter of any kind from the USPS, even if it is a sales brochure for Western Auto from 1967.

      Sorry to hear about your turkey-calf (is that anything like turducken?). I’m glad you and the dog were able to work it out amicably. It gives one paws.

      And finally, I had a good laugh at you giving everyone the finger for Christmas! Thank you for that. And I hope someday to make it up to the Great White North and have a few fingers of our favorite beverage together and spin yarns in front of a roaring fire (at least, up until the fire department comes to put it out).

      Have a very merry 10-days-before-Christmas!

      Liked by 1 person

    • Sorry I’m so late getting back to you, Lorne. I have been locked in a battle of wills with WP trying to change the title to reflect everyone’s simultaneous reality, but they said no dice. I did, however, get a lovely parting gift … a version of the WP home game. Woo hoo!

      Liked by 1 person

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