Just Play It Cool Girl | By Val Enders

Oh boy, suddenly it’s winter! Although there is not much snow on the ground, the Hubby and I know it’s here. I think he really dreads the winter, even if it turns out to be a mild one, simply because of my feet. Yes, I said my feet. I’m sure if you brought the subject up with other husbands, they would have to agree that they too have suffered from this chilling occurrence. I’m talking about the dreaded ‘frozen foot syndrome’.

I was up late the other night, and Hubby had already been in the sack for several hours before I decided to call it quits. Although I had been wearing socks, my feet were cold, but I knew that Hubby was snuggled in all toasty and warm. If I planned it right, I could go for the human heating pad, warm up my frost bitten digits and he would never suspect a thing. It was risky business, but I was willing to live on the edge. Just a slightest hint of warmth on those two blocks of ice attached to my ankles, and I was guaranteed a good night’s sleep. Now, all I needed to do was pull off the impossible.

Climbing into bed, I decide to check his level of consciousness. This is a crucial step if I’m to survive a rant in the morning. “Are you asleep honey?” I softly whisper in his ear. There’s no response, so I raise my voice and repeat the question. Still no response. That’s a good sign, but to be on the safe side, I do the drill again, all the while inching my feet closer and closer to the warmth of his ‘furnace-like’ body.

I slide my cold leg close to his. He mutters and shifts slightly away. Darn! Although he appears comatose, I think deep down that he suspects what I’m trying to do. I’ve pulled this maneuver off numerous times in the past, and have received a good scolding for it. What to do! Should I risk going in with the ‘Do or Die’ move, or, should I inch my way to warmth and waste valuable time? The longer I procrastinate, the colder my feet are getting, and by now, I’m numb below the knees! I decide to bet the farm, position my feet for invasion, and brace for his reaction.

Contact! “Yeowwwwwww!!!” He lets out a blood curdling shriek, and pulls himself into a fetal position before sitting up and scowling in my direction. Thank goodness it’s dark. I try to pretend that I’m sound asleep, and not responsible for what’s just happened. “Your feet are like two blocks of ice,” he wails. “Don’t pretend that you’re sleeping either, because I know that with feet that cold, you had to have just come to bed! KEEP THOSE LUMPS OF ICE OFF ME!” I can’t help but giggle, and so give away my pretense of sleep. “I just wanted to snuggle you,” I cooed. “Geez, you woke me out of a sound sleep with those gawd awful cold feet! Every winter, it’s the same thing!” he rants. Grumbling and mumbling, he flops back down, yanking the covers to show his displeasure at my rudeness.

By now, he’s clinging to the edge of the bed trying to get away from my toesicles, so I wheedle my way into the nice warm spot that he’s vacated. Ah! Warmth at last. This is heaven. I’m just grateful that he allows me to get away with this stunt every night. No need for an electric blanket in this house, I’ve got my own personal heater. It may get a little cranky every once in a while, but hey, I can live with that.

Author Val Enders resides in Spruce Grove, Alberta. She married her high school sweetheart, Richard, and they’ve been together for over 40 years. Val doesn’t consider herself a writer by profession, rather she writes more for her own enjoyment. An accomplished artist, Val’s a member of the Allied Arts Council of Spruce Grove. Visit Val’s “Journey Into Art” website at www.vals.webs.com