It's not so much the cold. Chicago's got New York beat there. It's the gray; buildings, pavement, the water, even the people. I look into the mirror and I can see the gray creeping along the edges of my jaw line. I don't exercise for muscles, but to see color in my face.
Is it unique to New York? Probably not. When I lived in the midwest I wasn't immune to the gray. Perhaps, it was because it was easier to stay indoors; more space, regulated heat, and the city didn't seem to mock one for wanting to stay at home.
Everyday is a calculation. How to layer so to avoid getting overheated once in doors; how to map out errands the day before, and then scratch them because it snows or rains and you can't take the shopping cart out. Despite the urban setting, the lack of a car, gives everything this odd man against the elements quality. One carries, hauls, pulls, and trudges to get things done. An hour of multiple errands is equivalent to a cardio workout.
And yet...there's something comforting in knowing that this is the downtime, the reading, cooking, knitting, thinking time of year. The smug cheerful types that never leave California or Florida don't really get it.
Which of course isn't going to stop me from escaping to warmer climes come March.
No comments:
Post a Comment