I know now that we were spoiled out of our minds.
The weather has turned. Instead of rain, we're getting snow.
And snotsicles.
And days when my kids actually want to wear coats instead of me begging on my knees for them to at least just put one in their backpack so I don't receive a letter from the school with a polite inquiry as to whether I'm aware of the free coats available at our local food pantry.
It's starting to get cold in earnest now, and I'm already weary of this.
I have readers in Minnesota, Canada, and since Google Analytics tells me a large portion of my readership lately has been coming from Russia, who are all probably banging their fists on the keyboard right now and yelling things at the screen that would make a sailor blush.
For what I'm about to say, I'm sorry. It hasn't even been below 10 degrees Fahrenheit here yet. You have it worse than I do, and you have since October. You win. Unluckily for you, I'm a poor loser and a complainer.
You see, the cold has a way of transforming things I used to love into things I fear.
The hot shower I used to love is now an instrument of torture. There's no conceivable way for all 360 degrees of me to stay in contact with the hot water at the same time, which means I end up freezing my butt off even though the water is cranked up so high I smell burning flesh.
Like an abusive relationship, I'm not even enjoying it anymore but I only stay because I'm afraid things will be worse if I leave.
I'm already a terrible night owl, mainly because I think sleep is boring, but adding the prospect of sandwiching myself between a freezing cold mattress and blankets at night makes it even worse.
Usually there's some sort of intense bargaining ritual involving picking a number or rock-paper-scissors to figure out which poor sap (Phillip or I) has to go in first.
The only thing I dread more is getting up and getting out of bed, which usually happens about 15 minutes after the blankets actually start feeling warm. The cold hardwood floor awaits. My bare feet shrivel up like prunes on contact.
I take that lovely hot shower I mentioned, bundle up, open the door, and feel the piercing sting of my nose hairs instantly freezing as the air hits my face.
I repeat: when I go outside there is ice INSIDE OF MY NOSE. This is not okay.
We trundle out to the car, and by this point my hands are the color of a corpse and the texture of Velcro. I can barely fasten my toddler's seatbelt my fingers are so numb, and the dedicated pair of driving mittens I keep in the car from January to March can't save me now.
We're not there yet, but we will be.
And I am very, very afraid.
Circa February 2015 - Don't you just hate it when you lose your preschooler in the snow? |
8 comments:
Three words: Heated Mattress Pad.
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0088AHKKW
Trust me.
Snotsicles! Hooray!
I hate winter. The fun of winter and snow was gone long ago for me and I can't see why my kids WANT to go out and play in the snow. Wet and cold and cold. I'll take some summer now, thanks
You know, all those people here in Michigan who were complaining about our mild Winter around Christmas time were insane. I was like, "People, it's Michigan. Shut up. Winter is coming and will last until May." And, lookey here, it came!
Give me a minute to wipe the drool off my face...
We used to have an electric blanket that we turned on 15 minutes before getting into bed, but it died a few seasons ago and so did a piece of me.
Me, too! I want to complain about how hot it is, instead!
Lasts a long time in that part of the country, I wouldn't complain about having a brown Christmas!
Snotsicles-Oh my Lanta!! I'm still laughing out loud!! I use driving gloves here in Fl when it goes below 50 degrees!!
Yes, invest in a small heater for your bathroom! And an electric blanket! Your life may well depend on those!!
Melinda
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