It’s dangerously cold here. And by dangerously I mean I am at risk of morphing into a pile of fleece and hair and never leaving the house again. Also people who don’t have a warm place to stay are in actual, serious bodily danger. Plus sharks are literally freezing to death, which is sad and terrifying. But mostly it’s about the resulting and inevitable slide toward my natural state of being—an amorphous, speechless hermit.
To battle this inevitability, I’ve been trying to trick myself into leaving the house by planning activities that can only be done in places that make me happy. I had to go to the library to get my new books. I needed to drive to the ice arena in order to ice skate. I had to go outside to order the giant egg rolls we obviously needed to eat on the last day of 2017. It’s worked intermittently, but it’s not been an entirely pleasant process.
After all that struggle forcing myself to act like a real human in the midst of this insane weather, I’m now wondering whether it’s really necessary at all. Who was it that decided we should still have to go to work and act like adults when it was five degrees Fahrenheit? That person probably hated being at home and had a miserable life, so now we all have to suffer. Or maybe they were a firefighter, which is very brave and self-sacrificing. But I’m not a firefighter, so what’s with all this pressure to buck up and face the wind?
I haven’t encountered anyone at my office who is happy about their cold, uncomfortable commute. No one standing at my bus stop feels emboldened by their choice to be outside. We’re all shivering and depressed together. I feel like we need to stop with this madness and just accept that now is the time to sit at home and read books and watch Netflix and eat soup.
Basically, I’d like the rest of you to push yourselves a little less so I don’t have to feel guilty about my need to legitimately hibernate for the next month. Please do your part.