Winter is getting bleak in Maryland.
It was 9 degrees this week.
That’s cold enough to steal your breath when you step outside, so I just try to no to.
I mean, I go lots of places, I just don’t want to. And, when I absolutely have to, I get all bundled up, Eskimo-in-Alaska style.
Or, um, really freaking super hot.
Because the moment I enter into any building, with the heater blasting, I literally feel like I’m going to catch fire. Only not badass and sexy like Katniss-catching-Fire. More sweaty, hot, and sticky like my granny in menopause catching fire.
And I always wish I would’ve risked frostbite and left my coat in the car. Or, come into the store with nothing on but my coat and a bikini.
Only, I don’t wear bikinis.
But, here’s what I do wear…
Happy, bright colors that at least give the impression that I’m not actively cursing the economy for making it impossible for me to sell my house-beast and move to a warmer climate that doesn’t dabble in crazy cold winters.
Along with my warmest, comfiest, most-favoritest boots ever.
Sadly, I don’t think this whole dressing-brightly-to-make-my-mood-cheery bit as actually working. Maybe I should consider dance walking?
I mean, I feel like it’s physically impossible, no matter the conditions, to be in a bad mood while dance walking. I bet this guy is never depressed…
Not the type to hit the streets grooving?
Yeah, me neither, probably. I guess I’ll have to try harder with the color infusion to boost my mood…