Yeah, winter hasn’t arrived but I LOVE, spell it with me, L-O-V-E, this time of year.
I do get a little crazy with going wicked bundled up.
I love my place cold. Not bone-chilling but cold. I sleep better I feel better when the blood is racing through my veins like Jeff Gordon drives his #24 car around the track. Throw on 18 comforters on that bed. I love snuggling up with all of that cotton and down all around me. Makes me feel like I’m invincible, just try to come and get me muggers, robbers and theives, your bullets and knives will never penetrate this fabric fortress.
When I’m up and outta bed, I throw on all sorts of clothes and not in a good fashionable way.
For instance, right now, I’m wearing the most ridiculous slippers, bad cotton socks that I got for Christmas, lounge pants that apparently were marketed for men but cut for a woman, a blogger t-shirt that’s made partially from bamboo, a big blue bathrobe that slightly too long for my arms AND a scarf. I don’t know why the scarf is necessary but most definitly is.
Yesterday, if someone had been peering up at my balcony they would have seen me sitting out on my fold up chair freezing my fill-in-the-blank off. Did I love it, certainly. I’ve sat out on my porch (with no walk-up steps, that would be a long walk up) more in the past week than I have the entire summer. Why because it’s cold, I’m dressed (although, not in a way, Kristen would approve of!) so warmly. Oh, I just remembered I was also wearing a bucket hat at the time, one like my Grandfather wears when he mows the lawn.
The get-up makes me feel like some crazy writer whose books make the best seller list everytime they crank one out. Er, maybe it’s more like a crazy homeless man. That’s how my mother described me when we talked on the phone. Actually, I just feel more like an old man who lost his fashion sense after John Travolta took to the dance floor in “Saturday Night Fever”.
But really, who cares, I’m comfortable, I’m warm and I’m happy,