The Annual Fall Mope-Athon is brought to you by the first few days of chilly weather here in North Texas. After 57 years I’ve learned not to fight it. I usually start off the festivities by sleeping until 1 O’clock in the afternoon, followed by remaining in pajamas until it threatens to gets dark. At the point I put on the funkiest, baggiest, most snuggly clothes I own. This is a token gesture, only done so that I can tell myself that I did, technically, get dressed that day.
After climbing out of my hibernation cave, I then drink enough coffee to enable me to jog to the next county and back without breaking a sweat. I don’t of course, that would not be in the spirit of a true Mope-Athon. Mr. Husband usually joins in by whipping up some sort of soup type substance from a mix that he’s been saving since the last ice age. They are usually pretty good. This year’s soup was based on a box of Jewish Soup mix. He un-koshered it by added slices of smoked sausage, in the fine Cajun tradition.
My head doctor theorizes that I have SAD, seasonal affective disorder. I refuse to buy into it, mainly because I don’t need another disorder, thank you. I just flat don’t like cold weather. This Mope-Athon is my way of honoring and mourning the passing of warm breezes, flowers, and being able to traipse around barefoot with only enough clothing to be legal.
The festivities last a few days. Until it either warms up again or I accept the fact the it’s going to remain cold whether I like it or not. One of the things I do to get on board with the whole it’s going to get cold thing is peruse my collection of winter coats, sweaters, and boots. And I have a fine collection. It will be a sad day when looking at shoes that I can now wear doesn’t cheer me up. With my womanly love of shoes in all their varied forms I seriously doubt that will ever happen.