Outside The Box

“You’re just being contrary,” a friend once remarked. “I disagree,” was my immediate reply.

Maybe it’s the weather. I’m standing on the back porch waiting for Peaches, who just chased a squirrel into the laurel thicket, to finish conducting her morning business, and it’s so cold that my coffee is starting to ice over in my hand. That can make a man contrary.

The weather station display says it’s 13.6 degrees outside. That’s not enough degrees, but at least the wind is calm. Just below the temperature is a little notation that says “Feels like 13.6 degrees.” I suppose that saves me the trouble of doing the dew point calculations in my head, and it gives me a benchmark for how contrary I should feel.

Misery indices, ironically, seem to be “popular” with information peddlers. Every weather report comes with a “real feel” or wind chill map. This is useful, particularly if you need to be reminded that wind always makes it feel colder or if it’s inconvenient to stick your head outside before getting dressed for the day. As a contrarian, I’m tempted to file that information with the “harmful if swallowed” label on a package of fish hooks, but I can see the value if you’re in a hurry to get to work and you live several floors above being able to take a quick look outside.

Meanwhile, Peaches, who, having lost track of her squirrel, found another one and then lost that one too, is now captivated by a scent only she can detect. How does a nose even function at this temperature? Can you just go ahead and pee?? A mouse could ice skate on my coffee now.

Apparently, Peaches didn’t notice the “feels like” temperature on the weather station. I’m not surprised. She also consistently fails to take note of the “misery indices” that various economic and academic entities compile to let us know how happy or unhappy we are. On the contrary, she seems to head out the door every morning as if it were the beginning of a brand new day, a tabula rasa, with no warnings or preconceived notions at all to guide her.

Ignorance is bliss? Au contraire. Happiness is an informed choice. I think I’ll just put on a heavier coat and join my puppy for a walk. The sun peeking over the ridge is creating a light show on the frost, and a pair of American Goldfinches just landed on the feeder by the barn. The coffee in the pot will still be hot when we get back.