It was 27 degrees when I took Gidget out for her first walk this morning. I’m so glad I couldn’t bear to part with the red sweater I made for Murphy all those years ago. It fits Gidget perfectly and it’s thicker and cozier than any store-bought version. She did a fast and efficient potty at 7am and got back inside and onto her down filled blanket on the couch, where she will stay until I drag her out to potty around noon, before supper, and before bed.
People reading this in the Northeast are now snickering as they look out at the results of the last blizzard, but seriously, 27 and a high of around 50 is freakishly cold for Central Florida. Most of us don’t own the appropriate clothing for it. My heaviest jacket is basically a dressy looking sweatshirt, and some years I only wear it once or twice. I don’t own things like sweatpants and wool sweaters. We aren’t prepared for this.
I was planning to go to Epcot today for the Festival of the Arts, but then I thought of temps in the 40s later and the cold breeze blowing off the water at the World Showcase and rescheduled for next Sunday, when the high is supposed to be 68. That’s still on the cooler side, we are usually in the 70s-low 80s in winter now.
I know canceling was the sensible thing but I’m disappointed, because it’s another weekend of nothing to do but responsible adulting. I’m fucking sick of responsible adulting.
The place where I work is sending us all back to the office starting February 21. Not full time – they’ve cooked up some crazy rotating schedule with floating seating and no more than 50% occupancy at a time. We have to haul not just our laptops but our keyboard and mouse and phone back and forth each day, too. Yeah, that sounds fun and extremely practical and realistic.
I’m totally over the job, but the mortgage company insists I keep working.
So anyway, this means February will really be a crunch time to lose a few pounds, because I currently have a limited wardrobe of the things that still (barely) fit, and it’s mostly jeans and t-shirts. While we do have a casual workplace, ratty jeans and faded tees would be pushing the dress code a bit. Over the past two years, “business casual” devolved into WTF-ever.
So I’m all in on sticking to my diet for the next few weeks. No snacks. No wine. No fun. Story of my life these days.