The first thunderstorms of 2009 are slated to hit NYC tonight, and in the mean time, it’s 68 degrees. Thunderstorms drive me wild–if I had taken the time to write 25 Things About Me on Facebook, that just may have been my #11. They’re boisterous and rude and they don’t give a shit, which is usually the exact opposite of how I am, so maybe that’s why I find them so appealing.
Bad weather captures the imagination. Reminds us that the world is a romantic place. The local news always treks over to the grocery store and the Home Depot to interview people who have the same thing to say every time–“I need a new shovel!” “We’re stocking up on bread and milk!” “I’m buying these jugs of water with my last bit of credit!”
No, really. I’m washing my clothes right now and I’m pretty sure it’s the last time I’ll be using the laundromat versus just filling up the tub and stepping on my wardrobe while I shower. They’re closing TWO hospitals in my area next month. Which would outrage me if I had health insurance. Instead I lucked out and happen to live with a Registered Nurse who also has a Psych degree for all my physical and emotional health needs.
And on top of it all, Jennifer Figge is a liar. Sometimes it seems like people over 50 are more effed up than their younger counterparts–Bernie Madoff, 70 years; Kim Jong-Il, 68 in 6 days!!; Dick Cheney, 68; Donald Trump, 62; Road Runner of Looney Tunes fame?, 60 years. Both Bernie Madoff and Donald Trump grew up in Queens, yet they’re so effed up they’re allowing two hospitals in their home borough to shut down. Unbelievable. Un-effin-believable. Here’s a story for the local news: I plan to be non-effed up when I reach my golden years. I plan to be a beacon of wisdom, embodying the awe of a winter thunderstorm, the practicality of a Home Depot shovel, and the comforting odor of clothes just pulled from the dryer.