It was finally cold today! Let me tell you, internet friends, how freaking excited I was to wake up this morning to temperatures low enough to warrant tights, boots, and The Paris Coat: very freaking excited. Not only do I like my winter wardrobe better than my summer one, I can also almost always be guaranteed better hair and makeup results in New Wye’s drier winter weather. Let’s face it: I just feel prettier in winter. This leads to a good mood all day as I stalk around campus in my tall boots, scarf flapping behind me, high on my own sense of crispness and self-satisfaction.
Last winter, it was only cold enough for a coat and boots maybe once — thus I realized that today could be the high point (wardrobe- and weather-wise) of the year. I have to be prepared for the possibility that it could all go downhill from here.
So when I got home from the store tonight with a brand new bottle of whiskey and began to make dinner and a cocktail, it should have come as no surprise that disaster would strike. Trying to put the whiskey on the shelf with wet hands, I managed to drop the bottle on the hard tile floor, helplessly watching as it shattered in slow motion. I had that brief moment when, after you drop something and before it hits the floor, you think to yourself maybe it won’t break.
Oh, it fucking broke all right. Whiskey pooled on the floor, soaking quickly into my sneakers and through my socks (luckily I had changed into my scuzzy Chucks when I got home and The Precious Boots thus escaped unscathed), and broken glass seemed to fly everywhere at once. I managed to stop the dog from “helping” me clean up before he either got drunk or ate any glass, and then managed to calmly finish making dinner while mopping, drying, and trying to sweep/vaccuum up all the glass. Then of course I had to run out to the liquor store again, where I’d just been an hour before (I was all, hello, liquor proprietor, déjà vu much?) to replace the bottle. A necessary step after all that nonsense, I think you will agree.
In other news, it’s officially Thanksgiving break, and I have grand plans: grading student essays, revising/editing a couple of my own essays, and dog sitting a certain little chihuahua. The beauty is that all of this can be accomplished while cozily ensconced on the couch in sweatpants with a huge mug of coffee. Also, as it is break, I am free to make that coffee Irish any time I want.
What are you doing for Thanksgiving, my fellow Americans? And to those who don’t celebrate Thnksgiving, what are your weekend plans? I must know!
It is always a shame when mass quantities (nay, any quantity) of Gold Love are sacrificed to the floor gods.
I don’t know if Drunk Dog is better at fetch than Sober Dog. It would be quite the experiment. Someone would call the po’po on us, though, and, to reiterate, wasting of the Gold Love is bad.
Even better than Drunk or Sober dog: New Dog. You’ll have to meet the wee one on your next visit.
It’s so cold in my house at the moment that we’re wrapped in layers of various and sundry thermal and sweater type materials, and layered with blankets and dogs. On occasion, the nice cat fancies a sit on one or the other of our chests. It’s quite a pleasant evening.
I know, it was so sad!
We had a pleasant evening of it in the cold weather eventually, though: lots of dog foot-warming and etc.
Also! New dog! How exciting! I will definitely have to meet the new dog soon!