Cold Feet

I've waited as long as possible. I've held my tongue, I've waited for it to change, I've tried to see the bright side. And yet, there is no denying it any more. It's really effing cold out. Like: surface of Pluto cold. I know, I know. Back in November I talked about how people need to get over the coldness of Minnesota because it's MINNESOTA. But we are barely (if even) halfway through the winter, and my eyelashes froze together this morning. Very uncool.

So, okay so you know how the heat and humidity remind me of swimming in pea soup and being punched in the face with mayonnaise? Well the cold, man. This crazy frigid cold. It's like standing in a wind tunnel while shards of glass fly at my face at light speed I while wear a suit made out freezer burn and my blood has turned into a Coke slushie...or Rumpleminz. It's all sharp and jagged and unyielding. So yes, I'm officially complaining about the weather.

It's not the snow that gets me. It's not the impossible parking restrictions, it's not even the slippery sidewalks. It's the absolute PAIN of freezing from the outside in. It's the crickly crackly frozen feeling of my skin, the fear that my nose will snap right off my face, and the sadness I get when I lose all the feeling in my toes. Sometimes I worry about whether or not toe-amputees can still wear peep-toe heels.

Despite the frigidity outside, I've been living in a 65 degree house too - for those who don't know, that's COLD. But tonight, I got gutsy and turned the thermostat up to Sixty Seven Degrees. Then I pulled out some duct tape and fixed the little tears in our window plastic that fancies up our house. (Okay, so I understand that putting plastic on your drafty windows keeps your house warm, but why can't someone make window plastic that doesn't tear and come off with the slightest breeze? Come on, Science.) I've got some bedazzled Vikings sweatpants on, a pink furry fleece sweatshirt, and wool socks tucked into fleece-lined slippers. I do NOT look good. But I'm warm. That's the main problemo with winter. I don't care how many pairs of tights you have, or how many sweaters you layer, or how inconspicuous you think your long underwear is, NO ONE LOOKS HOT IN THE FREEZING COLD.

I once heard of a girl in middle school who walked outside in winter with wet hair, and when she brushed her fingers through her hair, all her hair just snapped right off. So, you can imagine my horror when I was walking to work this morning, and the homocidal, stabbing cold wind started smacking me in my face until my eyes watered. I tried to not blink. I stared into that bitter wind like it stole my purse. I felt my tears smearing my makeup, but I didn't want to blink. I willed my eyes to stay open. I felt my contacts freeze to my eyeballs, and all of a sudden I just did it. I blinked. The corners of my lashes stuck together like a tongue on a lamp post. I started to panic, imagining that girl snapping off her own frozen hair. I wondered what I'd look like without eyelashes. It wasn't pretty.

As soon as I walked into our building, though, my frozen tears mercifully thawed and my fears subsided. That, my friends, means it is officially too cold. The disturbingly tan weather man has been throwing around words like "tundra", "icy" and "permafrost" lately. That's not weather, people, that's uninhabitable terrain. I'm not complaining about a little chilly weather, you guys. I'm not all "Oh no! I can see my breath!" It's more like "I'm afraid of losing appendages while I'm waiting for the bus".

I guess I just have to focus on July, when it's BOUND to be warmer. Though, by then it's all back to pea soup and mayonnaise punches. You just can't win here, huh?

Well, (try to) stay warm, kids, and have a wonderful weekend!