2000-12-15

Zap!

Here's the thing - basically, I enjoy cold weather. I enjoy it because I'm a Cuddle Slut� and a Layer Whore.� At night I sleep under no fewer than 3 comforters, which makes it very difficult to get out of bed in the morning, cocooned as I am in blankety warmth. I wear long johns, wool socks, all things fleecey and Thinsulate.� Not very sexy, but by God I'm warm. I stopped worrying about looking like the Michelin� Tire Lady after developing walking pneumonia several years ago.

The only trouble with this sort of attire, I've found, is the Shock Factor. I'm a virtual static bomb. I get into work and strip myself of several layers of outerwear, and then begin my obsessive-compulsive ritual of touching every metal surface in my office until I've rid myself of excess electricity. This never fails to give me a nice little thrill: anticipating the zap and its accompanying pinprick sting.

I attribute this, as I do a myriad of other quirks, to the demented, lovingly sadomasochistic relationship I have with my sister, Tina. Somewhere along the line, mid-70's I would guess, we discovered that shuffling around in our feety pajamas on the booger-green shag carpeting that covered most of the house generated a powerful shock that left its recipient in alternating fits of sobs and giggles. I'd be sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, blithely drinking Swiss Miss� and reading Ranger Rick�, when I'd hear vague scuffing and popping sounds from the bedroom hallway - the sound of Tina working up enough of a charge to light an entire block for a full 8 minutes, then touching all of the doorknobs in the hall:

Scuffscuffscuffscuff...ZAP!...heeheehee...Scuffscuffscuffscuff...ZAP!...heeheehee...

She'd then emerge from the hallway and scuff towards me, finger extended, impish face set in a beatific-yet-sinister simper. I'd yelp, scramble to my feet, and try to generate a comparable charge.

We could easily occupy ourselves for a good hour this way, shrieking and shocking ourselves until my mother could stand no more of it, making us change into our play clothes.

Undoubtedly this spooked the poor woman; nothing in her upbringing prepared her for the demonic, pain-happy spawn she found herself trapped with day after day. Dunno. I've never asked.

lisamcc at 15:40:36

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