Uneasy Rests the Crown

It's not easy being King of the Heat. The tribulations of frost on the inside of the windows and sleeping with a ski hat on are never fully recognized. As an old Swamp Yankee, I am used to the onslaught of Winter. I revel in its purity and severity. The days of soups and stews and pies are upon us and have been much awaited.
As November first approached, I was concerned about being labeled a sissy for turning the heat on. Then redemption arrived. I beat out the Angel of Arlington by several hours. So I am King for one more year.
The place where I live is now nice and toasty. The fruit flies in the kitchen are flitting about, while visions of squishy plums dance in their heads.
It is finally here. The season of rest and contemplation and reading and hot chocolate and warm fuzzy slippers. To sit inside with a hot cup of coffee and watch a blizzard pile up its soft fluffy gift outside, has long been awaited. Apple pie and roasted, stuffed, poultry and sitting in the kitchen while the gentle heat from the stove and the fragrances of the roasting fill the room is a pleasure that people of the tropics cannot share.
The time of simplicity is upon me. No daily checking to make sure that the plants outside have enough water and picking caterpillars off them. No worrying about melanoma of the pate. Out comes the goose down and the gloves and off I trudge through the squeaky soft snow. I must find a hat that will accomodate my King of the Heat crown. Maybe the Angel of Arlington has one that I can use. She definitely won't be using it this year.