Sometimes I write letters to Ellen DeGeneres. No Particular reason. Just because I can.
On Saturday my husband decided to go out during a small break in the blizzard and shovel. It didn’t make any sense to me. Why shovel in the middle of a blizzard? Why not wait until the storm has passed so you only have to shovel once? And then I remembered, he was probably trying to escape the chaos of two toddlers. A nice play on his part.
I assumed he’d only be outside for an hour; he was actually outside for several hours. During that time, I realized I needed a break from the kids, so I began popping my head outside to see what he was up to.
“Hubby!” I called, after the first hour.
“Are you still alive?”
“Are you still alive?” I asked again.”
“Okay. Just checking!”
Another hour passed and I popped my head outside again.
“Do you remember how Jack Nicholson died in The Shining?”
He smiled and laughed. “Yeah…”
“Okay,” I said. “Don’t do that!”
“I’ll do my best dear.”
Hour three. My husband was still outside.
” Yes, dear?”
“Did you know that according to the CDC, an average of 1300 people die from hypothermia every year. And of those 1300 people, 67% are men?”
“No. Thank you for that! It’s an incredibly cheerful thought.”
“Glad I can help,” I said as I closed the door.
After four hours, he came back inside complaining of aches and pains. Sometimes, Ellen, I wonder, could I be one of his aches and pains?