Life in My Years

At exactly 11pm I decide to go for a quick walk around the neighborhood. The weather’s been quite chilly lately, so I bundle up. When I say “quite chilly”, I mean cold enough for me that I shrivel and mentally brace myself every time I leave the comfort of a heated room. There’s an actual mental bracing involved. So when I say “bundle up”, I mean Eskimo-style. I already have the rosy cheeks down.

Actually, that’s probably not a fair thing to say about Eskimos. What do Eskimos wear anyway? Is it Eskimoes?

Anyway. At some point as I’m pulling my woolly brown socks over my thinner cotton socks over my knitted long underwear, my initial itch for a short walk around the block begins to feel too small an ambition for the amount of work I’m putting in. By the time I have on my thermals (plural), my sweater, another sweater, and my mom’s ski jacket, my clothes have made the decision for me. This walk was going to last for at least 30 minutes. Maybe even 40. For some final touches– more to complete my winter-tank ensemble than practicality at this point–I throw on a beanie, put on my gloves, and wrap my scarf around my neck and tuck it into the ski jacket for good measure.

Who was ready for anything? I was ready for anything. I was pumped up. I could probably even hike the Himalayas at this point. I feel like an invincible marshmellow and I’m actually sweating a little, which feels great because I know what was out there, waiting for me.

Target destination: Haley’s house.

Mission: To hand deliver a gift he bought for someone that he accidently forgot in my house.

Tools: Cell phone, keys, iPod.

I march out there into the cold and it’s like I just stepped into my living room, which, admittedly, tends to be a tad draftier than the rest of my heated house because of the open fireplace. I count this as a victory. Cold? What cold? I feel nothing! Actually, I do feel something: a drop, and then another, and then another. A little rain, so what. Mist is what it is really. I barely even feel it, and I’m still cozy inside my personal sauna, so I gamely continue with a swift and confident stride.

Twenty minutes into the walk, I realize that the rain, instead of dying as I’d hoped, is getting stronger by the minute. This bothers me, but not quite for the reason you may think. I’m in moderate physical discomfort at this point thanks to the twenty million layers of clothing I have on. The good news is that I’m still warm. The bad news is that I’m so warm I’m actually sweating quite profusely–more now than I ever was standing in my heated house since I have twenty minutes of exercise under my belt and am still trekking– and I would love nothing more than to peel off some layers. But everything else I’m wearing isn’t waterproof and it’s raining hard enough that I’d get soaked through very quickly.

The last twenty minutes or so to Haley’s house is very unpleasant and a little concerning, as my pants are getting wet and my left knee starts feeling the wetness. When I finally reach Haley’s house, I stand under the blessed shelter of his overhang, dripping, sweating, and I heroically hand him his gift that’s been saftely stored in my pocket. It’s warm to the touch from my body heat. He asks if I would like a ride back. I say yes. With diginity. And then he drives me home.

Mission accomplished.