My local postmaster has a tan

I had it all rehearsed. Walk to meet the mail guy in his truck, and offer my condolences for what he does day after day in this awful weather. Then feel like I've helped my fellow human being with a dollop of decent empathy.

But noooo..he has a tan, I mean, a really nice tan like the kind you get in Aruba or Barbados, all uniformly medium brown, the kind of tan you want to save, like it's liquid warmth.

Dashed, and disappointed, I had an attack of upper middle class self-righteous behavior: if my MAILMAN has a tan, why don't I?

Because, my fellow pale lovelies, I spent big kays on a wonderful winter weekend in New York City, celebrating my 60th birthday. Wouldn't trade that for 5 days in the sun, no way.

But, and here comes the attack, I should be able to have BOTH. Whenever I want or need a vacation, I SHOULD be able to go, at least, to Florida. Trick is, Florida and anywhere south this year is over $700 in air fare. Okay, this is turning into a complaint.

Instead, I will check the Web ONE MORE TIME for something, anything. Forecast for this evening is 1-3 inches of snow.