It is 23 degrees here. In central Texas. In February. I’m not one to put much faith in Punxsutawney Phil as I’ve seen Groundhog Day numerous times, but I am quite certain we’re in for 6 more weeks of winter. I have put on lotion approximately 9 times today and my skin is still crying out for more.
Tuesday morning at about 3:00 a.m. (the time might be off, I was a little groggy) a massive wind storm hit and blinked my power off and scared me to death. When you wake with an adrenaline rush, there’s little you can do but turn to Netflix in your time of need and watch some more Pushing Daisies. I also may have used my wild cherry body butter. It’s times like last night and right now that I wish I had stolen a pair of my mom’s ridiculously warm fuzzy socks. I need more fuzzy socks. And lotion options. That was sarcasm. I have an overabundance of lotion, though I’m trying to stick to the routine of slathering up every night to work my way through my stash.
It’s 22 degrees now and I’m becoming frightened as the weather report states that the wind chill will be 0 degrees. ZERO DEGREES?!? IS THAT A REAL TEMPERATURE?!?!? I legitimately don’t have a coat nor enough appropriate layers for such news. I am frightened. The whole dramatic event is reminiscent of Shakespeare:
Thou art not so unkind
As man’s ingratitude;
Thy tooth is not so keen
Because thou art not seen,
Although thy breath be rude.
Heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho! unto the green holly:
Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:
Then, heigh-ho! the holly!
This life is most jolly.”
Isn’t that just deliciously dramatic? I have a long-standing mental love affair with the Bard. Him, and Mr. Darcy. I’m not sure which infatuation is the least acceptable. Frankly, either could be rationalized more quickly than America’s obsession with Justin Beiber. That I will never get.
Y’all stay warm,