Cold feet

I’m cursed with cold feet and nothing helps.  I can splurge on insulated boots made with Yak hide and whale blubber- lined socks and it makes no difference. My feet are always cold.  I suppose living above the 48^th parallel where the sun rarely decides to show up from October to April doesn’t help matters.  So the other night I was at the bus stop waiting for the bus to take me home to my warm, snuggly slippers.  Outside the thermometer was registering somewhere between the inside of a Fridaire and the surface temperature of Pluto.   Not surprisingly, the bus was late and my feet were rapidly losing all feeling.  As I was contemplating calling my doctor to make a morning appointment for a double amputation I saw the bus approaching.  I stepped inside and this time I lucked into finding an empty seat (a rare occurrence).  As we pulled away I began to get a weird and wonderful sensation…the heat was turned on (an even rarer occurrence) and my feet were right smack next to the vent!  Ahhh…warmth all the way home!  That was one of the few bus rides that my feet hated to see end.