MY BAD (cold)

Holding my breath doesn't work, I find I must breathe even though it hurts. The vapor escapes steadily through my nose as I exhale a long-held breath. It's cold, and I might as well face it, and be gracious in my acceptance of it. My legs can't deny it. I stay scrunched up and walk in a stiffened manner. I will not relax until spring. Yes, we do have heat in the house but it just doesn't penetrate my bones or effect my internal thermostat!

The winter freeze causes me to draw in and hold myself tight, but it does not make me look any thinner. The season is dealing me a great appetite for massive plates of hot and steaming food, so an excess of flesh enters into the joke winter has played on me. The extra weight I have gained does not keep me any warmer, or comfortable and cozy.

It is very cold, and I am experiencing a bad cold. This frigid weather makes me chronicle all of my aches and pains to anyone who will listen. They do not have to pay close attention; just keep their face and glazed eyes turned toward me. The bitter cold (any temperature under fifty-eight degrees) grabs hold of my personality. I turn from a usually, sunny, pleasing woman into a crabby, snippy speaking crone. The iciness turn my fingers blue and toes numb.

Winter weather does cause me to enjoy the fireplace, I even ignore the holes the sparks have burned in the carpet even though they look like squashed bugs; I dont care, because I am staying under an afghan. Only a house fire could get me to come out from under the cover, that is except for food. The journey between the refrigerator and sofa gets longer, but I am determined to get to the goodies because chewing can warm you up. I may develop respiratory problems from taking shallow breaths; because the air is too cool to take in deeply enough to fill my lungs.

I go ahead and indulge in a crying jag if I feel like it because my eyes always stay red and wet; I might as well get some good out of it. The perpetual drip on the end of my nose fits right in with any scenario I may choose. I cant breath when I lay down, so I stay up and sniffle through €Ĺ“chic flicks", and-sob-I am off again; another reason to let my whole face go with the flow. My ears stop up, and I must get over it or use it!

Winter allergies cause me to seem to be emotional when attending church. That's a good thing. I use this time in being a role model to those hard-hearted people around me. By lifting my hand a little higher while I am swiping my nose as the music is playing, I'll make a slight praise wave. Without wasting the effect of having a cold; I use a little forethought, and turn a cough into a gruff "Amen". If I cough loudly enough or strangle while trying to sing I may get extra prayer from those around me; just what this petition may entail is known only to the dear saints and God, but any prayer is sure to help.

I'll take all the sympathy I can get; it won't last long. Nothing gets old as quick as someone elses condition no matter how rare or interesting I think it is.

When leaving the church sanctuary, I feel the need to walk slightly hunched over, this act may (or not) bring aid in the form of a young arm and a listening ear. If so, I gently lead the person connected to the arm toward the nearest door, and with humility in my voice, I tell them how this extremely cold weather makes me feel. If I have connected with a sympathetic spirit, which has an un-confessed sin or two, they may think by helping me they are making amends. Their theology may be a little askew, but really, I am helping them by letting them do such a righteous thing. I praise again, when they go out into the blizzard or whatever, and start my car. I am very gracious when they help me into the pre-warmed atmosphere.

I leave the parking lot like a gentlewoman; wave to the ones I cut off by accident; they understand because my sinuses have a gone crazy, and I need to get home in a hurry. Should anyone frown, I pray for him or her all the while keeping a pleasant but strained look on my face. If I am still in their view, I hold my throat and let my shoulders shake while I cough in agony and sorrow.

Day is sliding into the evening and time for my prayers and recuperation in bed, and tomorrow is another day. With Godly thoughts, and repentance in my heart I fight my way to sleep, while the drip on my nose congeals and connects me securely to the pillow.

Oh yes confession IS good for the soul! Amen?

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