Today is the eve of my vacation.
Tomorrow, Todd and I will drop off the dog and then drive south to Toronto. Saturday afternoon, we will drive to the airport, board the plane, and arrive in Nevada by the time the sun has set. We will wake up Sunday morning with glorious sunshine and warmth over the desert, and enjoy a champaigne brunch before idly deciding what, if anything, to do next.
Making last night’s and today’s sudden blowing snow and plummeting temperatures bittersweet – I would be raging, but in two days I will be so warm that it will not matter.
Right now, though, I’m fully dressed, and wearing slippers and a house coat overtop, still freezing. More so since going out to untangle the dog who had wrapped herself three times around one of the trees out back.
I’m so cold. I’m always cold. I used to be the one who would crack open the window in winter, dying to get a breath of fresh air and feel the cold against my skin.
I’m not that girl anymore.
I blame the kitchens. I’m used to the temperature being higher, of holding my hands over the stove when your shift starts in the morning, hugging a mug of tea or hot chocolate, and blankets and blankets at night. I do eventually get warm, and then I’ll shed the excess, but as I get older and older it takes more to raise my temperature. These days it’s a hot bath started, entered, partially drained and then flooded again with hot water straight from the tap until the water is steaming.
Tonight is one of those nights.
Grayson has curled up between my arms while I type. Tonight he and Congo get dropped off at my parents. While looking forward to the uninterupted sleep tonight, I’m worried about how he’s going to deal. He’s never slept anywhere else since I’ve adopted him, and while I’ve left him for two nights, he’s never left here and us for any length of time. Should be interesting. Anywho …
Vegas, baby! Vegas!