Record cold roofsit

“Turning blue on the roof”

Do you want to know why we’re sitting on this frigid roof today? You look like you wanna know. We’re up here because I wanted to establish the coldest roofsitting experience.

Before today it would be just a wild out-your-ear guess. Forty-one degrees? Thirty-nine? Nope, we can now say with all certainty that the coldest roofsit is 27 degrees. And that it’s happening right now. Feel it?

Like I say, that’s the reason we’re here right now, to establish a record. Wasn’t for that, we’d be inside talking about how to replace a vacuum cleaner belt. I can now save that topic for when I need somethig interesting to write about.

Do you happen to know what the wind chill is? No, I don’t mean what the definition of wind chill is. Nobody knows that. I’m talking about the number. What is it right now? The real temperature is 27 degrees and the wind is blowing. So, how cold does it feel?

Frieda, I can see where you’d guess 50 below. Look what you’re wearing! You came up here, sat down and acted like you had good sense. One word – layer. Two words -- you didn’t.

Speaking of which. Do you know how much heat you lose through your neck? A bunch. That’s why I’ve got Kay’s scarf wrapped around my neck. See? Cute, huh? This scarf is keeping me reasonably warm right now. Were I to take it off and give it to, say, Frieda, I’d be unreasonably cold. Can’t have that. Scarfs. I don’t think most men have taken enough advantage of them. This man hasn’t.

By the way, the wind chill is currently 14 degrees. Probably. Who can know? Oh, and Larry calls it “windshield.” He’ll say, “Hey, Mark, the windshield is 22 right now.” He may be joking, but with Larry, you can’t always be sure.

For those of you doing the whining, let me say that we won’t be up here that long. As soon as my coffee is gone, we’ll get off this frozen metallic incline. Oh, and yes, Calvin, it’s perfectly safe to stick your tongue to the roof. Nincompoop.

There is one thing we need not worry about during the cold spell. Water pipes. I wrapped those bubbas yesterday. Waited till the last minute because I didn’t want to wrap them in anticipation of cold weather that never came. So, when the cold arrived, I wrapped. About froze my posterior.

Which reminds me, have you ever wrapped a faucet with a pair of your underwear? Me neither, but I have used mine. They worked pretty well. Briefs, not boxers. I’ve never tried boxers, because I have none to spare. I’ve been wearing boxers ever since I started buying my own underwear. When I turned 40. Don’t know what came over me.

I don’t like the look nor the feel of briefs. And, no, I don’t care to argue the matter. However, I do want to mention another use (a better use) for briefs. Like I said, wrapping faucets. I put three of them in the rag pile. Briefs not faucets.

I wasn’t able to use underwear til now. Kay won’t let me use ‘em for cleaning and dusting. Says it’s just doesn’t sit right with her. So, when I came up with the idea to use ‘em to wrap the faucets, I chose not to tell her. Didn’t want her to obsess.

During my wrapping, I threw a pair on the hood of the car under the carport, thinking I’d use ‘em on the side of the house. Decided against it. Used a big tarp instead. That evening, Kay came out and found the briefs on the car. So, she grabs ‘em, walks up to me and says, “How many times do I have to tell you to keep your underwear off the car?” Isn’t she a hoot? If she wasn’t married, I’d— wait a minute. Never mind.

When I finished wrapping the pipes, I called Freeman to tell him the news. I occasionally like to brag on myself. Turned out, Freeman wasn’t all that impressed. He told me that he’s had his pipes wrapped for four years. He’s always topping me.

While that is weird, this may be weirder. Last night, Kay and I were snuggled on the couch watching one of those detective CSI, NCIS, Cold Case things. You know, where two hours after it’s over, you can’t remember who did the killing or why. At the end, they just throw in something about the baker being the accountant’s step daughter, and she killed him to keep him quiet about stealing the dog from the neighbor. You knew nothing about this till the last five minutes. How mysterious.

Anyway, all I remember is that it was cold and we finally went up stairs to bed. So, I’m coming down for breakfast and what do I see? Right there on the coffee table is a houseshoe and an exercise bra. I have no idea.

I did know the houseshoe was mine, because it was the mirror image of the one on my right foot. I knew the exercise bra wasn’t mine, because I don’t exercise.

I didn’t know whether to put on the shoe and hide the bra, or just take off my other shoe and start exercising. Since Kay was right behind me on the steps, I did neither. “There was a time when I would remember how those got there. But, right now, I have no recollection.” That’s what I said.

Kay couldn’t remember how they got there, either. But, as long as the bra fit one of us, she wasn’t all that worried.

And, speaking of long johns, I couldn’t find mine. Last time I ran across ‘em was back in mid-August. Won’t find ‘em again till— Whoa! My coffee is gone. We’ll have to take up the long johns another day. Maybe during the vacuum cleaner article.

Right now we need to get off this frozen peak. Frieda first. The poor girl has turned a shade of blue that just doesn’t look good. Anybody have a scarf for Frieda? Anybody? -- Next time.

END

To watch Brad and Mark’s review of Smokey Mo’s BBQ click on: Smokey Mo's

You can reach Mark at mark@fromtherooftop.net.