"It's really coming down," I said to my husband Seth on Sunday, Jan. 5. The snow had piled up through the night, and another snow cloud had settled over Elwood for the day.
"Yup." Seth was totally relaxed in his reclining end of the couch, confident he might be able to extend his weekend and keep his spot in front of the television warm for at least three days.
I continued to stare out the window. "Plus it's gonna start blowing around. Boy, if this much snow drifts..."
"Yup," he said. None of this was news really. Every local TV station had a winter storm warning icon on the screen and our faithful forecasters and news crews updated us every hour as to the location of all clouds and exactly how much snow was measurable on back decks, interstates, and tire tread paths on county roads.
I continued. "And COLD, too. Wow! Maybe 20 below zero."
Seth sighed and acknowledged me. I was dangerously close to talking too much, which meant he would be forced to pause the television. Pausing the television was a big deal ... he would have to swing upright in his chair, search for the remote, find his glasses so he could locate the pause button — and the worst part — interrupt whatever saved programming he was currently watching.
I have no problem upsetting the eco-system in Seth's television world or disturbing his meditative existence in couch-potato land by introducing real live conversation and reality-based interaction. With me.
"Wanna play Scrabble?" I asked.
One of this world's most shocking wonders is a little-known fact. Seth Timmons —who can sit in front of a television for an entire season of Downton Abbey and move so little that he could produce specimens of green mold — Seth Timmons, who inspired an English teacher to retire early, who has illegible handwriting, nonexistent punctuating ability, and hasn't won a spelling bee since second grade...yes, that guy likes to play Scrabble.