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Winter cobwebs

If I could become a bear and hibernate from November through Opening Day of baseball season, I would do it in a minute. Hibernation would save me the trouble of getting up every morning for no good reason during the winter.

The colder it gets, the sleepier I feel. Not only do I want to sleep all the time, but when I finally do get up, my head is full of cobwebs.

I often end up in some odd corner of my house wondering how I got there and what I was after.

Flustered, I shuffle off to another odd corner of the house, only to forget why I went there and simultaneously remember what I was supposed to pick up back at the last place.

The winter cobwebs have helped me become a more sensitive person as I now understand what elderly people in their fifties and sixties go through on a daily basis.

No longer will I mock people who show up without their dentures or something else vital. In the winter, I am just as bad.

Last winter on my way to the office, I started my pickup and put it in reverse before sensing something was very wrong.

It was then I realized it would be best to put on jeans or something over my long underwear.

At my age, the "I am on my way to ballet" excuse for showing up at work in long underwear no longer cuts it.

There are reasons one lives deep in the woods. Not getting arrested for indecency ranks near the top.

Winter cobwebs create all sorts of problems, many of which involve the coffee maker.

It is always best to put the carafe back in position before turning the coffee maker on, I have found. In the winter, however, remembering to do so seems more than I can manage.

So, I spend long mornings rinsing the coffee grounds out of the rags that I used to wipe up the mess on the counter after the filter basket overflows while I was off in some odd corner of the house wondering how I got there.

Oh, have you ever left the door wide open on your heated garage over night in mid-winter?

You don't have to answer that, and neither do I.

I better shut up here. If I keep confessing winter cobweb related mishaps, the relatives are going take my car keys and unplug my stove until April.

Unplugging the stove would be a bit extreme. So far the oddest thing I have done in the kitchen is put the milk in the cupboard and the cereal in the fridge. Who hasn't done that?

As for the wandering aimlessly around the house only to stare blankly at a spot on the kitchen counter as I figure out what I was doing and why--there is one way to fix that.

Make a list. I don't mean a grocery list, either. I mean a list of what you want to accomplish next time you climb the stairs.

I keep a stack of 3 x 5 cards on hand just for the purpose. Before I venture upstairs, I write on the card, "bring down garbage," or "start dryer" just so I don't waste the trip.

With a list, if another chore distracts me while I am upstairs, there is the chance that I will complete both errands in one trip, thus killing two birds with one stone and giving myself a sense of accomplishment to boot.

Sometimes the sense of accomplishment is so complete that a person just has to take a nap to celebrate.

Upon waking from the nap, though, the winter cobwebs are really thick.

First you have to figure out what century it is, then whether it is six in the morning or six in the evening, then what day it is so you know whether you have to be somewhere soon.

After a hard winter nap it would be handy to have a nice staff who puts up those signs which tell you where you are and what day it is, like they have at the nursing home.

Lacking such a staff, I think I am going to head to Arizona. That is, if I can concentrate long enough to pack.