I hate the cold. I wish it would go someplace where it's really hot. ;)
But Indiana isn't exactly the most tropical state. Somebody is blaming the most recent cold snap on a typhoon out by Japan. Chaos theory and all that (except when you can use computer models to make educated guesses at effects, it's not so chaotic). But I'm pretty sure this is just how Indiana likes to spend its winters, trolling the populace. "Hey, look, one random warm day. PSYCH! It's gonna be cold for a month!"
I turned the heat on in my house back in October, probably three weeks ago now. I'm a cheapskate so the thermostat is set at about 67 degrees Fahrenheit -- that, friends, is as cold as I can take it. And even now, my fingers feel like icicles with central nervous systems.
This is where blankets come in. I have a blanket -- no, two -- on my bed. There are at least a couple strewn about my living room and another one on my reading chair in the sunroom. There's even one downstairs in the basement, waiting to be washed.
Oh, and there's an emergency blanket in the car, of course.
The problem is after I get myself ensconced in a nice, warm, floofy blanket. Then I don't want to get up. This is a difficulty particularly in the morning.
So far, I've mainly surrendered to the tyranny of the frost and stayed in bed for hours on end, reading or doing stuff online or watching/listening to a podcast. I know I probably shouldn't.
But it's just so nice and warm.