Jennsicle

So there I was, calmly getting dressed and putting on my makeup, batting away the persistent claws of my kitten who seems to be intrigued rather than frightened by the large hot curling iron at the end of the super fun swinging cord.
First of all, let me point out that normally this makeup and hair routine would be taking place in the bathroom where the kitten does not venture ( I think he is seriously afraid of the toliet.) But today and for the past three days I have spent as much time in the bedroom as is humanly possible. Why? Because that is where the space heater is. Once you step outside the temperature in our apartment drops, LITERALLY, 30-35 degrees. I. shit. you. not.
Last night, I came home, changed out of my work clothes and in to... wait for it.... long johns, fleece pajama bottoms, ski socks covered with knitted wool booties, a long sleeve t shirt, a fleece turtleneck, and a North Face zip up polar fleece. And that was just my "cooking dinner" outfit. Once it came time to sit on the couch with out the added benefit of the stove and oven to keep me warm, I added two blankets and a fuzzy hood to that ensemble. Considering that it is only December 1st and I have about five more months of winter ahead of me, I am thinking I am not off to the best start.
Granted, we have no heat right now. Why you ask? Oh well, we thought it was best to turn the heat off after our carbon monoxide alarm went off for the third time and started jumping up to something like 97 parts per million ( which sounds deadly, but as it turns out it would take 8 hours of that level of exposure to even give you a headache. Do you think this stopped me from writing out a "goodbye world" letter in my head before I went to bed? Not a chance. I was convinced that every time the kitten jumped off the bed it was because his body had succommed to poisoning and he was keeling over. "That didn't sound like a hop. That sounded like a thud. Check his pulse Joe check his PULSE!!!!!")
Don't worry, we are getting a new furnace. Supposedly we are getting it up and running "before the weekend". So you know, as long as the temperature doesn't keep dropping and as long as it doesn't snow or anything, I think we should be o- Wait. What's that you say? It's freaking SNOWING outside?
Yes, let me take you back to the beginning of the story, when I was removing the kitten broach from my shoulder so that I could put on mascara. Joe comes into the room and says "Is that what you are wearing?" (never wise words gentlemen). "Yeah, why?" "There is more than an inch of snow on the ground." I assume that the look on my face after that was a mix of shock, fear, dismay, and annoyance at the fact that I could now feel the draft coming from the living room as Joe didn't close the bed room door behind him when he came to deliver this news.
Now, the part that comes next, well. I think it is the most convincing evidence that I am really unprepared for the Chicago winter. I was a good girl and i changed out of my stiletto boots into my flat ones. I sacrificed my hard-earned curls and covered them with a hat, and I zipped up my puffy down jacket over my suede skirt. And then I stepped outside. And while Joe was trudging down the stairs headed towards his snow covered car, I just stood there. And then, although I am not sure anyone heard it, I squealed a little. Because you see, the first thought in my head when I saw the street covered in white was not "oh geez what a bother." or "goddammit i need to get the ice scraper" but rather it went something like this ... " Oooooo pretty!!!!!! What do you mean I have to go to work? Don't they cancel work when this happens? " Because you see, where I come from, they do. If there was an inch and a half of snow on the ground and it was still coming down, classes would be canceled, school children would be told to stay home and make snow angels, and working professionals would be glued to the 6am news waiting to see if their place of business had shut down for the day. Sigh, sometimes I just adore the south.
Anyway, you can see my cause for concern. The fact that I am still a dumbstruck 6 year old every time I see fluffy white snow means I am in for a rude RUDE awakening. I am sure it won't take long before I am cursing the snow or before I am outright indifferent toward it, but that will be a sad day for me. It's nice to know that some things, like a first snow, can still feel magical even when you are all grown up. But Chicago is about to kill that magic for me. I know he doesn't mean to. Just like my sister didnt mean to ruin the whole magic of santa claus thing for me by writing "merry christmas jennifer" on my brand new "lets play schoolhouse" blackboard on christmas morning in her very recognizible bubbly cursive. These things happen. But for today, just today, I am going to continue to think of snow as magical. Just one last time.