Â The Title, Fifty Shades Of Grey, Was Already Taken
I wanted a sunny day. Okay, maybe a whole day of sunshine was getting greedy. I would–do-cartwheels-even-though-Iâ€™d-probably-break-a-hip-if-I-did–settle for a few paltry hours of the yellow stuff. But no.
This day, like so many others of late, held all the appeal and color of a dank and dingy dishrag. Remember dishrags? Do they still make those? Grandma and Mom always had one straddling the sink edge like a miniature cotton cowboy. Even though the cloth had been through a bajillion dishwashing episodes, once it dried it was like waffled cardboard. Musty smelling waffled cardboard no less. You could fling one of those bad-boys at a brother and leave a mark. Not that they had a clue what a dishrag was. Did they ever have to wash dishes? NO. Momâ€™s little testosterone favâ€™s they were. Sorry! I got off on a memory tangent there. Where was I? Oh yes.
I wanted a sunny day because my Vitamin D levels are screaming for a refill and because Iâ€™m tired of going from grey to black to grey to black to grey to black as each short day succumbs to each long night. I wanted a sunny day to at least pretend winter is waning, and because the closest thing to a winter vacation weâ€™re taking is a quick trip to Chicago. I enjoy Chicagoâ€¦but itâ€™s not what I would call a winter getaway. Not when the beaches have six feet of ice and snow washed ashore. This fact seems to get lost on my beloved husband even though Iâ€™ve been bringing it up for over twenty years. Baby steps in the marriage communication department, I guess. Â Oops! Another digression.
To Get My Sunny Day, I Decided I Would Either Have To:
- Travel to the sunshine. Not going to happen. I have obligations* and a husband who wants to go to Chicago. In the winter. For vacation.
- Buy virtual reality glasses. (Do they have anything with Sam Elliot pretending to rub oil on my body at the beach? No? Well, forget it then.
- Take a deep breath; look at a photograph of the sun while searing my hand on an old-fashioned light bulb.
Yeah. Iâ€™m Screwed
All the time I was thinking that Iâ€™ve lived in Minnesota for (insert a commercial break, la la la) years, and no appendages have fallen off from frostbite or lack of light yet. I can get through another winter stretch of grey. I may not like it, but I can do this. Once I poured a healthy glass of chardonnay, pulled out the Chicago brochure to view all the things you canâ€™t do in the winter months, and questioned my husbandâ€™s idea of fun winter vacations, I was okay. No, better than okay. I figure one more glass of wine, or twoâ€”three at the mostâ€”and endless grey skies will be the best part of my day.
*The cats are not going to feed themselves. They told me that right after their usual 22-hour nap.