Katiefoolery

I keep finding reasons to like Winter.

This is rather disturbing.

I Do Not Like Winter.  It is cold and miserable and I spend all of my time dreaming of Summer and of not wearing a million layers of clothing or having to cope with one’s stupid umbrella breaking in the stupid wind when one needs it for protection against the stupid rain.

But, on the other hand...

In Winter, I get to wear gloves and that means I don’t have to touch metal door-handles or poles on the bus with my bare skin.  This is quite a boon for someone who can’t stand the feel of metal.

In Winter, I get to wear lovely warm coats, such as the wool and cashmere one I bought for my birthday.  It’s incredibly warm and, as an added bonus, it makes me look ridiculously slim.  (As an added added bonus, I got five dollars off the price because one of the buttons was missing and later found said button in one of the pockets.)

Oh, and in Winter, I get to wear boots.  Oh, the boots.  I have such a problem there.  I won’t go into that any further.

As if this sudden gratitude for cold weather wasn’t bad enough, it took a turn for the worse the other day.  I’d just been on a trip to the supermarket across the road in the freezing cold winds of icy doom and I stepped back inside.  My normal reaction upon doing this is to run up to the door behind which the central heating unit resides and shower it with mushy praise and protestations of undying love.  The other day?  I stepped inside and thought: Hmm... it’s a bit too warm in here.

*despairs*

Despite this sudden rather worrying... fondness for cold weather, I still managed to enjoy my birthday.  It was helped along by some amazing people and their equally amazing generosity.  My evil twin, the_kaytinator, sent me a delightful parcel of goodies (the scarf is so warm); etherealdeva and charliemc gave me birthday vgifts; and linnet_101 was very understanding when I accidentally responded to her birthday sms with a single asterisk.  And so many other people did lovely things for me and I’m so grateful for it.  Thank you all. :D

Every couple of days for the past week, my dad’s been ringing me and letting me know how cold it is up there in Beechworth.

“Minus four this morning!” he’ll say.  “But it got up to eight degrees later.”

Or,

“We had no water this morning because the pipes had frozen.”

To both of which (and all variations thereof), I say:

“Argh!”

Because I hate the cold.  I’ve often thought that this has much to do with the fact that I was born on the coldest day in the history of ever.  I never want to be that cold again.

Or something like that.

And yet, we’re still going up to Beechworth for the next two and a bit days, because it’s the school holidays and it’s the thing to do.  Even though I’m going to freeze.  And people will mock me.  This includes both of my parents and my Timothy, all of whom have absolutley no problems with being SO COLD YOU CAN’T MOVE BECAUSE YOUR JOINTS HAVE FROZEN.

And they think I’m the weird one, just because I like being warm.

I will see you all on Saturday, when I have vague hopes of having caught up on my writing quota.  Indeed, I have even vaguer (and more deluded) hopes of pulling ahead!  I think it’s the cold... it’s done something to my brain.