I struggle in winter. The darkness, the cold, the lack of sunshine, everything is dead so I dwell on death a lot. And darkness comes early so I have more hours with my thoughts, hours that would normally be out in the sunshine working on some project or other. I keep myself busy, to be sure, but crazy sneaks up on me so I have to create my own amusement.
For example, Sunday, when I had a really bad hair day, I tried to focus on the fact that my hairdo looked like Popeye's Olive Oyle (What do you mean you don't know who that is? How old are you?) except she has inky black hair and I'm more of the brunette persuasion.
Or I spend long hours meditating on a fight between Superman and Wolverine and attempting to determine the outcome as well as what led to their disagreement (I don't exactly see Wolverine as a Lois Lane kind of guy. Could it have been over who was in charge of flipping the burgers at the super hero potluck? Maybe Popeye was somehow involved?).
My favorite experience of the week came last night. I got a mysterious text from a man we'll call Frank Murray. His text said something along the lines of,
This is Frank Murray. I need some information from you about Robbie Wilson so I can do the paperwork on his home loan."
I texted back with, "This isn't Shayla"
His response, "Sorry".
"Not as sorry as Robbie," I replied.