It is so incredibly cold here. If I'm barefoot in my apartment, my feet go numb. On the days I drive to work (a rare occasion, since I
have insane California road rage and start yelling and honking at people prefer public transit), I have to plan ahead so I can factor in the time it will take to scrape the ice off my windshield and possibly drive to the gas station to refill the air in my tires. I've started signing my work e-mails "Take care and stay warm."
Last night I wore leg warmers on the trainer.
And then I went to bed in two layers of pajamas, plus a bathrobe with a hood. And I left the heater on, which I really hate to do because I'm cheap and all extra money needs to be allocated to Ironman (coaching fees! gym membership! aerobars! wheel rental! phallic helmet! travel!). And I had a down comforter. And two really furry cats. And I still froze.
And then woke up to this:
(Yes, my weather app has cats doing yoga on it. Clearly, it's far superior to your weather app.)
I have officially forgotten what summer is. Instead, this is my reality:
That's right, folks -- the Land of Hipster Lumberjacks. (P.S. That's a guy.)