winter wimp

Leaving a warm bed on a cold morning is my personal hell.

I have turned into a winter wimp, whining like a little baby. I am woefully under-prepared for winter. I do not own a true winter coat. Mitts and scarf, yes. Because it can be that cold. And I do not own any winter boots; I use my hiking boots. And every time snowmaggedon hits Victoria (if you want a true snowmaggedon, look at Newfoundland right now), I think about buying said boots. But WHY? I’d only wear them two or three days max in any given year. According to the native Victorians, this snowfall ranks in the top 10 (most snowfall on that day in over 50 years), with the snowfall of 96 still at #1. Funny, my benchmark is the blizzard of 77 from an 11-year old’s point of view.

So, I wimp out. I turtle and hibernate. My idea of snow it watching it fall out the balcony window, while sitting warm and snug on the couch with a book. I hate bundling up. I hate trying to slog through snow. I hate slipping (and falling). I just hate everything about it. The Ontario in me has been beaten out of me when it comes to winter. And I’m not embarrassed. I no longer apologise for being me.

There’s something else you need to know: I am also enabled — by my work no less. I can work from home, having a secure web log in to everything I need. I didn’t even try to get into the office. That is, until Friday. On Friday my co-worker was on a flex day and someone really did need to be in the office. So I sucked it up and went in. Surprisingly, I lived…er..I didn’t slip and fall, though the pinwheel arms did indeed happen on one occasion and my own guffaws masked anyone else laughing at me.

Oṃ śānti śānti śānti

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