Short Stuff

I keep saying that the only thing I miss about Florida are the two live oak trees that I planted in the front yard. Okay, that and January and February. I miss Florida during those two months. But now a drop in the temperature here in Chicago has made me realize I miss one other thing. My shorts. As of this week I have retired the shorts until next spring, until the temperatures stay reliably over fifty degrees. For twenty seven years I lived in my shorts. Oh, I had long pants for special occasions, but ninety nine, point nine percent of the time, I wore shorts in Florida. It's a sad day when they get put away at the bottom of the drawer, covered up by the long pants I'll be wearing for the next six months. I hate wearing long pants. If the dogs want to go outside I have to wrestle to get them on while Chandler and Scout dance at the back door. If I have to go to the bathroom in a hurry, it's another wrestling match getting the damn things off. Yes, I can't go number two with pants around my ankles. Long pants are too binding, and for some reason make me feel fatter than I am. Not that I'm not fat. I am. It's just that long pants make me feel obese. So with a tear in my eye, and a pain in my heart, I bid goodbye to shorts until the good weather returns.