Tuesday, February 8
Double-do
If I had a choice, I would be curled up in a ball, wrapped under blankets of clothes and refusing to budge more than a meter away from the heater. Mornings were not my preferred waking times, neither was five degrees celsius my favorite temperature.
But R-J was none like me. She loved it cold, real cold. Like jogging in a thin sweater over a flimsy tee in the biting winds (and snow) down at Riverside Park.
This morning after her snowy jog, R-J was deliberating if she should go for a shower before her dance class in two hours' time. She didn't want to double-bathe.
Halfway round the globe by the power of the MSN Messenger, I shooed her to the bathroom. What was so bad about a little double-wash up ? I did that shit all the time, even if they were not actually by choice. Those nights when I absent-mindedly ate those darn cookies after I had brushed my teeth. Or had milk spilled onto my PJ pants just before I climbed into bed.
Woe was me.
It was five degrees celsius in the morning.
If I had a choice, I would be curled up in a ball, wrapped under blankets of clothes and refusing to budge more than a meter away from the heater. Mornings were not my preferred waking times, neither was five degrees celsius my favorite temperature.
But R-J was none like me. She loved it cold, real cold. Like jogging in a thin sweater over a flimsy tee in the biting winds (and snow) down at Riverside Park.
This morning after her snowy jog, R-J was deliberating if she should go for a shower before her dance class in two hours' time. She didn't want to double-bathe.
Halfway round the globe by the power of the MSN Messenger, I shooed her to the bathroom. What was so bad about a little double-wash up ? I did that shit all the time, even if they were not actually by choice. Those nights when I absent-mindedly ate those darn cookies after I had brushed my teeth. Or had milk spilled onto my PJ pants just before I climbed into bed.
Woe was me.
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