I feel awkward for saying anything about it, since most of the country is in a deep freeze right now. But these upper 40s at night, and 50s during the day, are bugging me. I'm discovering that my house is poorly insulated. In a major way.
Last night, I remembered my cashmere blanket, and added that to my upper layers in bed. Now, I have flannel sheets, a micro-fiber blanket, the quilt, the cashmere blanket, and finally, one of Grandma's afghans. And last night, I actually felt nice and warm in bed. I did not want to get out this morning. But unfortunately, I had to. I'll have to tomorrow, as well, since I've got a 9 a.m. eyebrow appointment (priorities, people).
I've discovered that the random cut on my thumb from a couple weeks ago is a product of the cold weather and my hands getting too dry. Because it's back, and making my life hell. I'm eager to get done with my activities tonight so I can put some Neosporin on it and cover it with a bandage for sleep. Go away, random cold-weather cut!
And damn it, my floors are frickin' freezing. I am incapable of going anywhere in my house without slippers or socks on my feet. The tile in my bathroom is cold enough to freeze something, and I am not loving the hardwood floors all over the place.
I love it when the cold finally gets bugging me to the point where I have to stop and say to myself, "Hey, Kimberly. Remember when it was 115 degrees outside and you couldn't cool your house to less than 80? Remember thinking how lovely it would be once winter arrived? Well, this is it. Deal."
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