Story 369: Wishing the Seasons Away

 (Friends 1 and 2 sit at an outdoor table in 75°F weather; Friend 1 pushes food around the plate with a fork while sighing in various pitches)

Friend 2: (Continues to eat while watching this for a few minutes) You’d better eat that eventually or I’m gonna find someone who will.

Friend 1: Hm? Oh, sorry – just having a minor life-altering existential crisis; I’ll be fine in a minute.

Friend 2: I dread to ask: what now?

Friend 1: I don’t know, everything?

Friend 2: You’re going to have to narrow it down a little.

Friend 1: I guess it’s just, I’m not, you know – in the spirit of the season.

Friend 2: Join the club: everyone else isn’t this year either, or else they’re trying to fake it `til they make it.

Friend 1: Oh.  I didn’t mean that – I’ve felt this way for years.

Friend 2: Ah, so this is just normal for you, then.

Friend 1: Yeah.  You know we haven’t even had real snow for about half a decade?

Friend 2: Don’t get me started on the climate – I’ll never stop.

Friend 1: Yeah, you do go on.  But coming back to my thing, I’ve found in my so-called adult life that I’m rarely in the spirit of any season, ever.

Friend 2: How do you mean?

Friend 1: Well, right now I’m bummed out by night starting at 4:30 in the afternoon and the occasional bouts of polar winds, so I wish we could jump ahead to late spring and midsummer.

Friend 2: OK….

Friend 1: And then when it is late spring and midsummer, I don’t do anything anyway so then I wish it were sort-of-winter again so I can pretend to hibernate while I’m really just indulging my sedentary lifestyle.

Friend 2: …What?

Friend 1: I mean, isn’t it so cozy to curl up with a blanket and hot drink while a blizzard roars right outside your window?

Friend 2: I guess, if you have a good home, but didn’t you just say we don’t really get snow anymore?

Friend 1: My midsummer mind forgets that.

Friend 2: Oh good gourd.

Friend 1: And while we’re roasting in the hot sun and can’t even go out because it’s either oven temperatures or all the good beaches and amusement parks are filled with everyone else in the world, I just wish: wouldn’t it be nice to bundle up for a brisk walk in the snowy woods followed by a good curl-up with a blanket and hot drink while a blizzard roars outside your window?

Friend 2: My head’s spinning with your repetitiveness – why don’t you forget the blizzard and just go bundle up for a walk now?

Friend 1: (Holds up a leg) I’m wearing shorts!  In Northern-Hemisphere December!

Friend 2: All right, forget the bundle-up: how about stop allowing the seasons to dictate your mood and do whatever you want whenever you want?  As long as it doesn’t hurt anyone, that is.

Friend 1: (Taps a fry to lip while pondering) You make an excellent point.

Friend 2: I know I do.  Now let’s pay the bill and get out of here – there’re about 50 people hovering over there waiting for a table.

Friend 1: They can have it when I’m good and finished.  For now, I’ll take your advice and live in the moment: tomorrow, I’ll finally fulfill my lifelong dream and go for advanced surfing lessons.

Friend 2: Oh-kay, didn’t realize you were going to go in that direction....

Friend 1: It’s like you said: I should stop letting the weather dictate my mood.  This balmy Winter Solstice, I will be riding the waves and grilling dinner out on the balcony and drinking lemonade and creeping around miniature golf courses, and no store decorations or holiday carolers or religious institutions or consumerist commercials or well-meaning charities will stop my new happiness!

Friend 2: That’s the spirit.

Story 293: You Start Growing Old When You Start Growing Cold

(In Friend 1’s apartment, Friend 2 is sitting on the living room couch and reading a book when Friend 1 enters, pulling on a sweatshirt)

Friend 2: What… are you doing?

Friend 1: (Stops in mid-pull) Eh?

Friend 2: (Points accusingly at the sweatshirt) Why are you putting on that?  It’s over 70° outside!

Friend 1: (Finishes adjusting attire) Yeah, well, it’s cooler inside than it is out.

Friend 2: Not really: it’s over 70° in here, too.  You really should turn your thermostat down, by the way – I saw earlier that it’s set for 85°.

Friend 1: I will turn it down when it is absolutely necessary to do so and not a second earlier, Earth-killer.  (Glances at the thermostat) Besides, I doubt it’s even 70° in here – this thing isn’t a smart thermostat, it’s just a stupid thermostat like the rest of the retro analogue tech scattered throughout the place.

Friend 2: Don’t let them hear you say that: you’ll be the first they turn on during the robot uprising.

Friend 1: I’m quite sure I will be.  (Sits in an armchair and pulls on slipper socks over regular socks on feet)

Friend 2: Oh come on – need me to make a bowl of chicken noodle soup for you too, while you’re at it?!

Friend 1: Ooh, that sounds lovely; would you?

Friend 2: Face it, pal: you’re getting old.

Friend 1: I fail to see the train of logic you boarded to reach that conclusion.

Friend 2: For starters, it’s almost July and you’re dressed like “Winter Is Coming”!

Friend 1: Well technically, we are still in Spring.

Friend 2: We haven’t had Spring in years!  We go straight from Winter to the Rainy Season to Summer!  (Walks to the window and opens it wide) Look at the grass out there, it’s already burning!

Friend 1: (Peers out, unconcernedly) Well, there are some very thoughtless dog walkers in this area.  (Wraps a fleece blanket around self and curls up in the chair)

Friend 2: What – what – what are you doing now?!

Friend 1: Getting comfortable.  Ooh, while you’re up, could you bring me my knit cap from the hall closet, please?

Friend 2: No I will not – you’re going to overheat and die!

Friend 1: Don’t be dramatic; I’m not a car.

Friend 2: (Flops back down on the couch) No, you’re just old.

Friend 1: Again with the “o” word.  And where is the evidence for your newfound hypothesis, hm?

Friend 2: It’s not new; I’ve been noticing it for years.  Every single person of advanced years I know is always freezing the hotter outside it gets.  I guess it’s some kind of core temperature body change we’re all doomed to get; our cells struggling to stay alive as everything breaks down or something.

Friend 1: (Chuckles while briskly rubbing hands together) Hate to burst your bubble, but your premise is flawed: I only just turned 35.  (Friend 2 stares at Friend 1) That’s not old!

Friend 2: In this society and time period, no; biologically, it’s the beginning of the end.

Friend 1: What?!

Friend 2: Think about it: our bodies stop growing by age 21 the latest; we reach our ultimate peak by early 30s the latest; it can only be downhill after that.

Friend 1: What?!

Friend 2: Haven’t you noticed your appetite lessening, your hair graying, your skin drying out, your muscles sagging?

Friend 1: Wha – wel – whe – that last one’s just because I’m a lazy oaf!

Friend 2: Yeah, and wrinkles are starting to show up around your eyes, and your hearing is getting worse, and you’re falling asleep earlier and earlier at night, even in the middle of a movie –

Friend 1: Hey!  I fall asleep because I have had a busy and exhausting day at work!

Friend 2: You work less now than you did in your 20s when you had two jobs and went to school full-time!

Friend 1: I had more motivation back then: it was before my epic failure at life.

Friend 2: Whatever; your memory’s gotten real bad, too.

Friend 1: Has not!  I remember everything about everything with perfect clarity!

Friend 2: OK: what temperature did I say your thermostat was set to earlier?

Friend 1: (Mouth opens and closes several times) Your memory’s bad!

Friend 2: Fine.

Friend 1: (Flings off blanket and walks across the room) And just because I feel a slight chill on a brisk Spring day does not translate into one of the myriad symptoms you’ve obviously been tracking on me to diagnose my supposed early-onset agedom!  (Starts lighting the fireplace)

Friend 2: (Walks over to Friend 1 and snatches away the lighter) You want to be incinerated in your own hot flash go right ahead, but you’re not taking me with you!  (Tosses the lighter onto the couch and picks up the book to leave)

Friend 1: (Snatches the lighter from the couch) Go, leave, revel in the Dog Days of Summer that you claim are going on out there!  I’ll be nice and cozy in here, I thank you.

Friend 2: (Opens the front door) I’ll call you from the beach!  (Leaves)

Friend 1: (Shakes head in disgust, lights fire, and goes back to curling up with the blanket in the chair.  Barely moves when the front door opens again)

Friend 2: (Not meeting Friend 1’s eyes) You got any gloves I could borrow?

Friend 1: (Opens a lamp table drawer and pulls out a pair) I thought you’d never ask.