I’m officially throwing in the towel. I hate to give up too early, because my surrender means I’ve resigned myself to at least 5 months of chilly despair. However, I just can’t take it any more. I’m busting out the electric blanket.
The good news is, I looooooooove my electric blanket. Love love love love love it. I love it so much I want to marry it. It’s the absolute only consolation in these bitter winter months. I jump in my ‘jammies, crank the blanket up to HI, and settle in for roasty, toasty coziness.
I bake like a hot potato for awhile, until I feel the hypothermia wear off, and then I lower it down to the pretty-toasty-but-not-quite-roasty level of 13. In fact, as much as I love it when spring comes, I feel 2% disappointed that I have to pack that lovely blanket away. And then I remember that it’s FUCKING SPRING and I’m ecstatic and I shed that motherfucker like my tortie cat sheds dandruff.
Oops. Seasonal Tourette’s.