2005-01-21 - 9:27 a.m.
Let's state the obvious: it is cold outside. More than cold; the frigid air temporarily freezes my face into a sleepy grimace when I am walking more than four blocks. I have to hold the space heater up to my icy face and ignore the heated skin smell as I defrost.
Another downside: the car exhaust. Somehow it gets muddled in all the other New York smells when the thermometer reads above 30, but recently it has been sharp and clear and noxious. I think fondly of my upstate hometown. I try to remember what clean(ish) air smells like. I imagine the invisible fumes latching onto my lungs like a fungus.
These winter mornings are not awesome.
And it is as though the city stores have just ignored the brutal weather, opting instead for obliviousness through fashion. I walk down Spring street confronted by window after window filled with stick mannequins wearing swooshy skirts and sequined tank tops. Light spring blazers and kicky chinos. Mini-skirts paired with the ubiquitous Uggs. I start to imagine the sheer ribboned shirt with my dark denim skirt and then fuck! That wind! Where is my nose? I touch my face to make sure no key items have contracted frostbite and fallen off while I was in the throes of daydream.
Snow is excpected this weekend, finally. With each snowfall, winter seems a little shorter. The cold seems a little warmer. You can only go up when you hit rock bottom. (Is 3 degrees considered rock bottom?)
Sadly, this conflicts with a party. The bf's co-worker's suprise birthday party, to be specific. At 22, I am a full-fledged "mingler."
Oh, hello, bf's boss! Charmed, I'm sure. How about those...sports teams, eh? No, no, just a glass of wine for me. Hmm? Oh, um, the merlot would be lovely.
Anyhow, I think the celebration will be snowed out. That's my hope, anyhow.
Nothing better than a weekend in bed with a DVD box set, snow on the windowsill, and a cat curled up in between you and the fella you love.
~j
+Archer Prewitt/ Wilderness+
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