Saturday, December 23, 2017

cold Christmas coming

A cold, raw day today, with perhaps an inch of snow-frozen-rain on sidewalk and street outside the house. There, delicately etched, is one set of what I take to be the newspaper-deliverer's foot prints. Each step is carefully marked from one house to the next.

But in the midst of all that neatness is a helter-skelter of rabbit tracks ... this way, that way, the other way ... delivering nothing but a reminder that Peter or Priscilla Rabbit had come and gone. How I hope, given the raw cold, that s/he was wearing thermal socks.

Yesterday, in town, after finding a hard-to-find parking slot, I started a long-ish trek towards a store where I might buy Christmas knick-knacks, but the cold was such that I chickened out. It was just too cold and I was just too old and I turned back... and by chance stumbled on an overpriced store quite near to my parking place.

I went in. I perused. I spent. Isn't that the 'Christmas spirit?'

There is something to be said for acceding to your inner wuss.


  1. All the time do I embrace the tiredness, aches, fear of falling that time has brought me. I imagine some would exert themselves to appear more vital. But I shamelessly embrace the loss of vitality. I circle the drain slowly.

  2. The shivers are still there as I read about Guatemala relocating their embassy in Jerusalem. It is not so much about Christmas that scares me, it's the fact that there are no major explosion reported in the Singaporean news the past 96 hours that utterly freaks me out. Something seems terribly wrong when everything seems perfectly alrite.