My house is... cold. As Autumn chill creeps over the north west, the recession remains. Heating, gas, the fire... they all cost money. And since Rob and I aren't working full time (and are electricity junkies), we have forfeit our right to complain.
It's actually not that bad. Like right now I'm wrapped up in jeans, my new Frank hoodie (best money I ever spent) and my big ugg/type slippers (one of the best gifts I ever received, cheers Kirsty!). And I'm fine. I have tons of hoodies, jumpers, boots, scarves, hats... I'm a winter clothes freak! I can weather this storm no problemo!
The weird thing is, the cold makes me reluctant to do normal things. Like at night I am loathe to change into my pyjamas! I would sleep in my clothes if it weren't gross. And showering... no, no, no! Our bathroom really is freezing and stripping off for a shower is less than pleasant. Don't get me wrong, I am showering, but it sucks.
But there is something I love about the cold. It's the relief of coming home, out of the cold, the necessity of warmth over appearance. Curling up with a good book and a brew. The fact that the kitchens at work are never cold so I can still walk around in a t-shirt somewhere. I'm a preparation fanatic and I like being able to go out with my backpack knowing that I'm ready for whatever you can throw at me! Umbrella, check. Scarf, check. Gloves, check. Bus money, check. I'm waterproof, warm - I'm fucking invincible!