It's Complicated

I have a complicated coat of many zippers. It is my winter coat and it puzzles me. My former coat was made of pea. At least that’s the way it smelled when I’d get caught in the rain. My wife decided it was time to get an all-weather coat. A coat that would withstand, and not absorb, the elements.

I call it my Frankie Valli coat. He being my favorite of the Four Seasons. That is not a joke. I'm that corny.

It is a nylon coat with a fleece lining that you zip in or zip out according to how you happen to tolerate the seasons. Me? I used to be a keep-the-coat-off-till-my-nipples-tell-me-otherwise kind of guy. But as I get older I pay less and less attention to my nipples and more attention to my frozen arteries.

My Frankie Valli coat has a removable hood, as well as assorted flaps and hidden compartments where I keep losing things. My phone rings and I slap at old Frankie till I feel the outline of the ringing intruder. But things are never where I think they are. Items seem to get buried in a series of convoluted pocket, flap and zipper devices that force me to perform like a circus contortionist as I stand on the train platform trying to unravel my arms as they get lost in a series of mysterious coat tunnels.

It seems to amuse the evening rush hour commuters. Their coats aren’t quite so complicated, and that makes them happy. They’ve all had a rough day and need me more than ever. And that makes me warm all over.

Now if only someone would help me get my hands out of my pockets.