This morning I was greeted by the Weather Channel app informing me that I was about to wait for the bus while it was three degrees out.
Three degrees. Twenty-nine degrees less than freezing. Three degrees shy of being awarded no degrees, and may God have mercy on your soul.
So I put on a snuggly sweater and a fur vest and a surprisingly warm coat and called it good.
I forgot about the five inches of bare skin on the tops of my feet.
Frostbite is the new fetch. I'm gonna make this happen.
Which reminds me -- because frostbite reminds me of the tropical two-stepping paradise I'd rather be occupying -- I'm slowly sifting through your Texas advice emails - I love all of them! Working on answering each and every one of you little angels. In the meantime, if you think of anything else I should know about the Dallas/Fort Worth area (where to live/where to live only if you want to get shot, where to eat/where to eat only if you want food poisoning)tweet me or email me or send a carrier pigeon.
And when I get there, consider yourselves invited to my housewarming party. Unless I end up living in a cardboard box under a bridge. Then consider yourself rainchecked.