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As much as I hate being cold, I don't think I could ever move somewhere that didn't have a real, solid, freezing, snowing, bleak, icy winter.
I get cold so easily, and it frustrates the heck out of me. I hate the moment of climbing out from under the blankets in the morning, and of having to bundle up to go outside, and sitting in my car hunched and chilly and miserable. I can't stand the way my rings spin and slide on my fingers because my hands are shrunken with cold. The offices I work at are always climate-controlled for big, burly, temperature-impervious men, leaving me shivering and sitting on my hands between appointments.
But....
I can't think of anything in summer, or any other season, that feels quite as good as curling up under an afghan and wrapping my hands around a scaldingly-hot mug of tea, or the first sip of that tea as it thaws a path from my lips, down my chest, into my body. And I adore being able to warm the house up by baking, and knowing that the kitchen is the heart of the house again. Cookies and coffee cake and homemade rolls may still smell good and taste good all year round, but they're just not as fulfilling and comforting and... just plain *good* when the weather outside is also comforting and good.
Plus, there's just something nice about wearing fuzzy sweaters and socks, and giving myself permission to break out the giant shapeless sweatshirts and flannel pajamas and other comfy clothing for a couple of months. I don't think I could tolerate more than a few months of it, but I think I'd be equally miserable if I didn't have this in my life, too....
I get cold so easily, and it frustrates the heck out of me. I hate the moment of climbing out from under the blankets in the morning, and of having to bundle up to go outside, and sitting in my car hunched and chilly and miserable. I can't stand the way my rings spin and slide on my fingers because my hands are shrunken with cold. The offices I work at are always climate-controlled for big, burly, temperature-impervious men, leaving me shivering and sitting on my hands between appointments.
But....
I can't think of anything in summer, or any other season, that feels quite as good as curling up under an afghan and wrapping my hands around a scaldingly-hot mug of tea, or the first sip of that tea as it thaws a path from my lips, down my chest, into my body. And I adore being able to warm the house up by baking, and knowing that the kitchen is the heart of the house again. Cookies and coffee cake and homemade rolls may still smell good and taste good all year round, but they're just not as fulfilling and comforting and... just plain *good* when the weather outside is also comforting and good.
Plus, there's just something nice about wearing fuzzy sweaters and socks, and giving myself permission to break out the giant shapeless sweatshirts and flannel pajamas and other comfy clothing for a couple of months. I don't think I could tolerate more than a few months of it, but I think I'd be equally miserable if I didn't have this in my life, too....
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Date: 2008-11-25 12:34 am (UTC):)
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Date: 2008-11-25 12:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-25 03:41 am (UTC)But really I'm writing so I can attach healing wishes!
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Date: 2008-11-25 03:48 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-25 07:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-11-25 01:52 pm (UTC)