In the words of my grandmother, “It’s as cold as a witches titty.”

The Artic Vortex is upon us.

 

Scene: Me, on my grandparent’s hand-me-down couch, cuddled up with my favorite furry blanket that has been tucked around every exposed crevice of my exposed body. My cold, metal MacBook balances on my knee because my feet are so cold that I can’t handle sitting here without having them tucked back underneath my body. My two little hands are barely poking out of the sides of my blanket cocoon, just enough to allow my fingers to reach the keys on the keyboard. My boyfriend just told me I look like a papoose. I don’t give a damn because I am freezing my ass off.

 

My apartment, nestled among many, sits on the third floor of an old building that was originally a tobacco warehouse and cigarette factory in the mid1800s. The old exposed brick is the one feature that drew me into wanting to live here. Currently, I hate the brick that lines my living room wall and the thin insulation that separates me from the artic temperatures outside. I’m pretty sure I feel a slight breeze on my slightly exposed hands as I write this. When it 9 degrees outside, a draft and thin walls are the last thing you want.

 

This is Virginia for gods sake, I should have the option to wear a t-shirt and light coat if I want or even just a heavy sweater. Rather, I am stuck with a combination of undershirt,  2nd shirt, sweater, coat, gloves, hat, etc. I know, I’m being a selfish weather brat. I shouldn’t be complaining when some states are experiencing temperatures as low at -40 right now. But I’m dreading having to leave the comfort of my couch cocoon to go get into bed because the journey down my hallway seems to mimic the length of the great wall of china right now. I guess its that time though, I’m gonna make a break for it.

 

Until next time, stay warm my friends.

 

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