Anyone could. Fall isn’t exactly sneaky. The clues are everywhere: it’s colder and darker and, oy, the damn leaf blowers never stop. (While we’re on the subject, why does every leaf blower sound like the Tilt-A-Whirl?)
Autumn comes tripping along about this time every year, like clockwork. You can set your calendar by it.* So, I’m curious, why do fall rituals come as such a jolt? They hit me like a train, wham. One, in particular, wallops me senseless.
I’m talking about the return to long pants. The first time I’m forced to dig out the pants is a cruel and chilling reminder of what lies ahead: win-n-n-n — . Sorry, wint-t-t. Win-n-n, w. I can’t say it. Nippy weather, how’s that?
Pants, my friends, are the final nail in summer’s coffin, the exclamation point. How can this not be a national day of mourning? Why are flags not at half-mast? Surely, this is a tragedy. Or maybe it’s more of a disaster. Where the heck is FEMA? Oh, right, the shutdown. Wait, no, shouldn’t this fall under essential government services, disaster relief?
This morning I faced an agonizing choice: I could either (a) freeze my nougats or (b) resort to long pants. I opted for (b) the pants. Oh, don’t give me that look; you’d have done the same thing. Frozen nougats are nothing to flirt with, trust me. Besides, I didn’t cave immediately, I dithered. I checked the current temperature (44º, a scant 12º short of freezing) and the forecast high (mid-60s). Then I caved.
Yep, hi-ho, hi-ho, it’s back to pants we go. Pants and, soon, big, puffy coats, dorky hats and layers of long johns, scarves and gloves and sweaters and wooly socks. Wint-t-t, win-n. Nippy weather is not pretty.
Please, shoot me now.
Copyright © 2013 Publikworks
*What is it with fall? Doesn’t it ever get lost or sidetracked or waylaid by mechanical failure? Does it never oversleep? That must be one helluva GPS / alarm clock gizmo.
the whirly girl 
16 responses to “: helen keller could’ve seen this coming :”
Oh shame, good luck with win…. Nippy Weather. I also can’t say the word. Just think, you appreciate summer more when you have to go through the nippy weather. I know for a fact that I am loving the heat that we already have. :) Peace
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Thanks,LKRV. That’s a tough word to spit out, isn’t it? The nippy weather thing. Even tougher to survive : (
Here’s to slogging through until spring — ah, that word just glides. Spring. I hope it hurries.
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Haha yeah, in the mean time I will be trying to send some heat waves your way from SA :)
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Would you, please? You’re the best!
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You make me think of my family members who will wear flip-flops in December! Thank you for the giggle and your reply to the grammar comment :o)
You’ve made my day.
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What a swell thing to say, hhtc! Thank you, you made my weekend.
PS. I hope y’all live in Florida.
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YAY!
PS. NJ, actually…
PPS. My mom visited this weekend and we went to our town’s “screaming jamboree”. She told me about her new boots but stated “The sun is still shining so my toes are still liberated!” We also purchased a beautiful flip-flop necklace at the event.
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You are a hardy people, hhtc. I run for the socks when it gets below 80.
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…ARE a sublime combination? Or is it is? I’ve had too much coffee for grammar. And see? Another reason to welcome cooler weather — hot coffee!
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Don’t ask me, I’m drunk.
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Lisa, you’re an absolute hoot! Thanks for the laugh.
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No, thank you for the set-up.
Sent from my iPhone
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Maybe because I moved from a place of almost year-round shorts, I’m finding I actually enjoy being up here in the land of pants. For one thing, there’s rarely a need to shave my legs anymore. Like Blogdramedy, however, I am mourning the loss of sandal weather. Cotton pants and toeless shoes is a sublime combination.
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There are so many things to mourn with the passing of summer I can’t narrow it down to one. But the pants thing serves as such a harsh and unwelcome wake-up call, you know?
I’d like to disconnect the phone, please.
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We’ve had frost every night for a week. For me it’s not the long pants…it’s putting away sandals for socks and enclosed (aaargh) shoes.
My feet are considering walking away to somewhere warmer.
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Your feet have the right idea, BD. Winter makes me claustrophobic. I’m serious.
Sidewalks shrink to the width of a snow shovel’s blade; you look through a tiny porthole in your windshield, rubbed clean of ice; and your entire body is encased in heavy, restrictive clothes.
I’d rather wear a straitjacket than a giant winter coat.
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