We've been in our condo for more than 6 years, but this is the first year I have ever felt cold when the heat is on. I can hear the wind whistling around the building. It's a sound right out of a movie about Siberia.
Sitting here at my desk, I'm between two windows, one in front and one beside me, and it feels like it used to feel in the winter when I lived downtown in old wooden houses with single pane windows. We would wrap up in duvets, but we'd have cold noses.
I know about layering, and I have sweatshirts and sweaters and tights and cozy slippers. It's not enough. Dave reminds me that we're having a cold winter, and that we're not spring chickens. That just causes me to feel guilty because I'm not hardy. Feeling guilty makes my jaw clamp and my teeth hurt. And because I belong to every Facebook page with bad news, I know how awful this is for the homeless, so how can I even think about complaining?
I'm crocheting an afghan for the mission, but by the time I finish it, April will be upon us. Damn, I feel like slapping my own face.