Posted tagged ‘Kleenex’

“To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.”

April 5, 2016

I saw the sun this morning. The day was lovely for about a half an hour. The sky was so blue it didn’t look real. It looked painted, a combination of blues, maybe even by Van Gogh. I can hear the drops from melting snow so we’re above freezing. If this were January, I’d be happy with melting snow.

The sun has just come out again and I can see blue appearing from among the clouds. I’m hopeful that the sun will decide to stay for a while.

The Sox and the Indians were postponed yesterday because of the weather: no surprise there. The game is today and starts at one. The Sox are now being introduced to boos, of course. Most of the team is wearing the jersey head coverings just in case. The stadium is fairly empty. The announcer is wearing his winter coat.

When I was young, I didn’t care about the weather. It wasn’t as if I could do anything about it. My day to day didn’t change come rain, snow or sun. I walked to school no matter what. I tended to hurry on the rainy days and saunter on sunny days. On winter days my friends and I huddled to walk together, the better to stay warm. I remember it was hard to breathe on the coldest days and sometimes my nose would run. I’d use my sleeves for that problem because no self-respecting kid carried a Kleenex or even worse a handkerchief, besides that’s why sleeves were invented. It grossed out my mother so she’d sneak and tuck a Kleenex into my jacket pocket but it usually stayed there most of the winter. Sleeves were far more convenient.

I always moaned and groaned at the trials and tribulations of being a kid. Life was ordered so I didn’t have a whole lot of choices. What I didn’t realize was I didn’t have a whole lot of responsibilities either. I had to go to school unless I was close to dying. I had homework to do. I had to bathe occasionally. When I got home from school, I had to change from school clothes to play clothes. My vegetables had to be eaten, but my mother generally served the ones I liked so that was no big issue. I had to go to bed early on school nights. Early was contested all the time. My mother and I differed on its definition. I usually lost. That was part of being a kid: losing arguments with parent, but I’d start one anyway. I was always hopeful.

“If a doctor treats your cold, it will go away in fourteen days. If you leave it alone, it will go away in two weeks.

March 10, 2016

My mood and the day are too similar to ignore. It rained earlier. The ground is still wet. The sky is a light grey. My mood is just a bit darker. I woke up very late and did not want to get out of bed. Gracie and Fern adjusted their respective positions on the bed, and we all went back to sleep. I had to force myself to get up. Two cups of coffee are just not enough today.

My house is clean. Roseana and Lee came yesterday. Dump day is tomorrow. I checked and the bird feeders still have seeds though I did have to replace the suet in both of those feeders. The clothes are all washed. There are no dirty dishes. I got books at the library yesterday. I finished the newspaper’s crossword puzzle. As all of this sounds like paradise, why the mood?

My voice is raspy. I have a headache. I am exhausted (spell check came up with a better word: exhumed) for no reason. All I can think of is maybe the cold I avoided knows spring is upon us and wants to get me before winter takes its final bow. This makes me unhappy. It also makes me grumpy.

I figure to loll in bed, take whatever medication I have and read the day away. That actually sounds inviting. The only thing missing is the maid and a bell by my bed to summon her.

This will last a day or two as I’m not coughing or blowing my nose. On the measurement of colds, something I just made up, I’m about a 3 or a 4 out of 10. If I were a little kid, my mother would have sent me to school: two symptoms do not a cold make.

The worst part of a kid’s cold is a runny nose. I hated having a runny nose. My mother used to stuff my pockets with Kleenex. That left a dilemma. Where do I put the used Kleenex? I couldn’t keep getting up from my desk to put them in the trash so I’d stash them in my school bag or the pocket of my sweater if I happened to be wearing one. Nothing is worse than a used Kleenex.

My mother usually had a Kleenex or two in her handbag. The problems were the Kleenex was a crumbled mess, often had lipstick on it and brown bits of tobacco from my mother’s cigarette package clung to it. I had no choice but to use that Kleenex. It was always a mystery to me why my mother didn’t want it back. To me, it sort of fit right into her bag.