Hot time, winter in assisted living

Dad's keeping his thermostat at seventy-four degrees, while staying under his comforter or wearing a sweatshirt.  As well as entering a new phase in the father-daughter relationship, I may have crossed a new line of hormonal weirdness.  Feeling queasy in Dad's tropical nursing home terrarium at seventy-four, I got home and shivered at sixty-nine degrees.  Walking by the creek without a jacket at fifty-five feels perfect.  Back inside and wrapped in an afghan with a fire in the fireplace, seventy-two feels polar.

Is this some cosmic utility payback for my nagging of Black Hills Energy for the refund on Dad's averaged gas bill?  Or maybe post-menopausal mindgames? 

(The Lovin' Spoonful)

Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn't it a pity
Doesn't seem to be a shadow in the city

© 2011 Nancy L. Ruder

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