In The Prude’s ‘Behavior of the Month’ chart, December should look like this:
Snowflakes should cling to hairs and eyelashes so:
December this year somehow muddled itself up with March and November and we
have a mess of Dovchember which looks something like this:
If Facebook had been around when The Prude was an adolescent every status update would have included a no-snow lament.
Had the Weather Channel existed she would have checked it on every 8’s.
But when The Prude was ‘The Universe Hates Me-teen, the words ‘social’ and ‘media’ had not yet met.
The Prude could only vent her despair with a bleak and gray December by moping at a Universe which bent all its energies into making her existence a living H-E-Double Hockey Sticks.
She would have oozed from one window to the next, casting baleful glares upon miserly clouds unwilling to depart with even a single conglomeration of frozen ice crystals.
Her mother, driven to distraction, would demand that The Prude stop pruelling (possibly a Dutch word meaning ‘self-pity worn upon one’s countenance and comportment’).
But now The Prude has reached the Wisdom of Middle Age.
Snow is lovely. No denying it.
But is the desire for Charlie Brown Christmas snow worth the emotional blizzard of blah engendered by its lack?
Of course not. The Prude has learned the joy of a calm and stoic spirit.
For example, the Prude’s husband just told her he thinks there may be a few snowflakes on the picnic table.
I wish you could see how the stoic Prude just picked up the laptop overturned in her haste to view the snowflakes and plant calm kisses on each little crystalized particle of joy.