So, Daughter's recent post about her move to Fargo and her preparations has me thinking. About freezing. To. Death.
I read somewhere that freezing to death is a pleasant way to die.
Note: Pleasant?
I read somewhere that freezing to death is a relatively pleasant way to die. That is, it's relatively pleasant after one gets over the aching and numbness in the arms and legs, the violent shaking as the muscles try to warm the body, the thickening of the blood. The palpitations. The hallucinations. Before being found naked (a final humiliation) by strangers after ripping off one's clothes as the capillaries burst.
Note: Relatively pleasant? I don't think so.
Anyhow.
So Daughter is buying things she needs for the sub-zero Fargo winter. The items on her list are a foreign language to me. For example:
In California, when we discuss face masks we are referring to the types that awaken and tighten our pores or allow us to hold-up nearby 7-Elevens without being recognized. We are not talking about face masks that protect our faces from the frostbite that can, apparently, occur instantaneously to appendages exposed to the air.
Yes, instantaneously.
Note: It may not be instantaneous. Maybe I am making that up.
In California, underwear is underwear. Oh, we may have Days of the Week underwear or Sexy underwear or even Grandma-panty underwear. But it's all basically the same kind of thing. We wear it. We change it everyday. Usually. And then we wash it and wear it. Again. Whenever.
Daughter is purchasing winter underwear. Which is layered. Under your other underwear, I guess.
Note: I do not know about this whole underwear-layering thing. I live in California. Did I mention that?
But I am excited for Daughter's adventure in North Dakota. Really. And I can't wait to visit her. I've never been to a foreign country, so it should be swell.
Heck, yes.
