This feels like I’m cheating. I wrote a tale about this person fairly recently, and now here she comes again.
The problem any writer has is fresh ideas. When my tank is empty, I find visiting the social media posts of certain people to be quite useful.
So if you haven’t read The Cat in the Hat on Xanax, take a moment and do so. It will help you understand exactly what we’re dealing with here.
The first day of spring arrived this week. Her posts from Minnesota reminded me that spring doesn’t look the same everywhere.
Even in the hills of North Georgia, it’s been a shorts and t-shirt kind of week. Expect that to be be my uniform for the next eight months. I’m all about minimal clothing. (Full disclosure: in my 20s, I thought I’d be a nudist. In my 60s, having seen myself nude, plans changed. Be grateful.)
In Minnesota, the beginning of spring brought a fresh blanket of snow, apparently. Up popped a picture of a snow kitten.
What makes a 50-ish year old woman see fresh snow and think, ‘hey, I’m gonna go outside and build a snow kitten?’
Correct answer: she’s a dang nut.
If you answered ‘she’s a crazy cat lady,’ you get points, but crazy cat ladies are usually single. This one has a husband. I’ve met him. Other than being married to a dang nut, he has no other glaring personality disorders.
Any snow kitten needs an owner to cuddle with, I reckon, so along with the snow kitten, we also had what was identified as a ‘snow person.’
This is where my brain got fuzzy.
Her post read, “a snow person and her cat.”
As an enlightened guy, ‘snow person’ indicates to me this is a gender-neutral person of snow.
But when it’s a snow person and her cat, that sorta identifies said person of snow as a female.
As a heterosexual male, I’m conflicted. Is this snow person available or not?
My wife says I cannot date either snow women or snow men. So, asking for a friend.
A very, very lonesome friend, apparently.