Hold on to your hats (coats, boots, and sanity), The Farmer’s Almanac is predicting another over-the-top snowy, freezing cold , your-boiler-is-going-to-get-a-workout, winter.
I am putting on black and beginning to mourn for summer.
I am also (as soon as this fucking one-sided sore throat, headache. I-am-so-tired-I-might-be-dead, feeling ends, going to drink up, seep up, BREATHE in every moment of warmth and sun that I can, in preparation for another winter of depressing hibernation.
Although, I cannot, CANNOT have a repeat of winter 2015. I won’t allow it. That was one miserable period. I am going to have to make some winter plans that can sustain me and mine. I mean, given that I can’t just go live somewhere warm from December to May, I will have to make some plans in this here region that makes life bearable. Maybe some salon-type parties (or saloon-type parties), weekly theme dinners with friends, game nights, I don’t know, igloo making contests? Who’s in?
I vow not to let this winter get the better of me. Bloomingdales is having a sale on cashmere this week. “Hear that, you cold bitch?” You’re not getting all up in my business again this year. Nuh uh.