Season's Greetings

I have just had two serious invitations from friends to come visit Florida sometime this winter. There are several reasons why I will likely decline.

First, residing in their midst are two well known gentlemen whom I find most displeasing, yet far too many among this population consider them to be perfectly peachy fellows.

Next, I have developed a grave (f)ear of flying after a (n)ear death experience, at least in my unbiased opinion, due to a significantly stuffed ear during my most recent airplane travel. It hurt. It hurt a lot and for more than just a couple of minutes.

But mostly, I absolutely, positively abhor the despicable practice of each and every person in Florida beginning each and every conversation, given their perception that I am presently located in a semi-frozen tundra, with a detailed description of how unbelievably wondrous the weather is. Their most pressing concern being the color of shorts to put on that day. As if I was wholly unaware of the acute differences in our state(s) of being. As if news of the balmy temperature and blue skies in Florida had not yet arrived by carrier pigeon to me.

Yesterday, I received a call from a friend now situated in Florida, most kindly inquiring as to the state of my health (fine, thank you) and wishing me and my loved ones a wonderful New Year. He could not have been sweeter. Until his next sentence.

In rapid response I advised him that I had recently spoken with a mutual friend of ours, also in Florida, who likewise had given me a meteorological prostate exam. I am not a person prone to cursing but I related that the F bomb had flowed freely from my lips during that first conversation and my unkind reply was exactly the same now. And I politely requested that when next these two friends spoke to one another, he should explicitly remind him as to my feelings.

The sad truth is that I am more than a little jealous of them. Life seems so uncomplicated. To golf or not to golf, that is the question. Groundhog day, Punxsutawney Phil seeing his shadow over and over, but six more weeks of winter in the Sunshine state not being a prison sentence at all. Sometimes, the joy of four distinct seasons can seem more than a tad overrated.

But don't tell those F...ing folks in Florida I said that. Just let them know their legs look lousy in shorts.