While it's more fun to play Things That Are In My Stomach, sometimes I like to play "Things That I Am Wearing."
If I had a superpower -- besides Not Sleeping -- it would be that I Never Get Cold. I remember sitting on the deck in my swimsuit one day last spring when the BFF had on a sweater over a turtleneck.
I hate the cold so much, I spend a lot of time pretending it doesn't exist. It is a fact that I will only turn on the heat from December 1 to March 1st. An argument could be made that I'm just being cheap, but I don't apply the same rule to A/C which I clicked on last year around Easter and inadvertently sparked a facebook riot.
I hate the cold so much, I sometimes hate people who love it. I just ran across drafts from two blogs I wrote about a drinking-for-charity date on an unexpectedly snowy January night. I wrote one draft about the utter hideousness of what I wore (I sensibly dressed for walking two blocks uphill to the car; I may've been warm, but I sure was not Hot, and that irritated me all night -- made worse by the fact that dozens of people got that outfit on camera). The other draft was about how happy he was walking up that damn hill -- like a kid on his first snow day -- and how his obvious Joy was so adorable it kind of made me want to punch him in the face.
Today, I am cold and irritable -- exacerbated by the fact, in this case, that only my summer clothes have been unpacked and put away.
Which means, I'm wearing: a wifebeater; topped by an Austin Chile Pepper festival t-shirt; topped by a long-sleeve band t-shirt (the band is "Generation" -- I don't know them, but they gave me the t-shirt maybe 13 years ago, in my music critic days); topped by my Harvey Milk "Never Blend In" t-shirt. Over that is a mink ski vest (of course I don't ski, but it was a present... and it was just sitting on top of the washer/dryer which I guess is where the Movers dropped it).
Over that is my fuzzy pink "Race for the Cure" bathrobe, which maybe ameliorates the politics of the mink.
It's also possible I didn't mention that all the upstairs windows have to be open so that I don't asphyxiate from the oil paint fumes downstairs in the dining room.