I am not happy about this non-winter we’re having.
While the rest of you are basking in the 50 degree weather in January and keeping your fingers crossed that winter really isn’t coming this year, I am inside, moping that I have yet to experience a time this year that I haven’t been able to feel my toes. My kids are outside drawing chalk rainbows on the driveway right now, and I haven’t even gotten to take one obligatory rosy-cheeked-from-cold photo montage of them. The older one isn’t even wearing shoes (which, to be honest, is probably ill-advised, since it’s still only like 45 degrees outside right now, but my kids are weirdly impervious to cold, lending credence to my alien replicant theory).
I might be the only one, but I am honestly a huge fan of winter. The cold air feels cleaner, the pressure to eat salad is at a minimum, and people are much less likely in general to go outside, which means I get to live my dream of surviving an apocalypse and never having to wait in line at Potbelly for lunch. It gets dark sooner, and I am actually much more productive when it’s dark– when it stays lighter longer, I feel like I need to spend all the time I can outside, which I’m sure is great for my physical health, but wreaks havoc on my many hobbies, all of which involve a couch and blanket to adequately complete. I also hate being sweaty, so winter is a welcome change from armpit swamp.
But I think the main thing I enjoy most about winter is the fact that I can wear black leggings essentially everywhere, and because I’m wearing a giant parka, no one can judge me. After all, under this coat, I might be wearing a chic sweater dress or artfully draped tunic. I mean, I’m not– I’m probably wearing a Turtle Beach t-shirt I’ve had since the fifth grade– but no one can know that for sure. So until it gets cold again, I am forced to actually dress like a grown human being (which really just means pants with buttons, but seriously, I would get pregnant again right now if it meant I could just wear maternity pants without shame for the rest of my life).
So bring on the snow and the sleet and the perpetually frozen snot nose! I, for one, am ready to be forced to spend the day under a blanket marathoning Making a Murderer while a blizzard rages outside. It’s a terrible sacrifice, but I am prepared to make it.