I tap my pencil and squirm in my chair. I’ve been working on math for 45 minutes now, and I’ve still got 23 problems to go. I’m trying to stay focused, but it’s not working. I’m freezing.
I take a break for a second to pull on some layers. I’m already wearing a sweatshirt but now I switch out my jeans for some sweatpants. I dust off my wool skiing socks and put those on too. Finally, I pull on some fuzzy socks on top of those and sit back down at my desk.
Twenty minutes later and somehow I feel colder. It didn’t work. My toes are numb, and the only reason my fingers aren’t numb too is because I’ve been writing so much. I give up, gather my stuff and move downstairs to the living room to huddle under a blanket.
My house is freezing. It always has been and it always will be. We moved into this house about 11 years ago, and it’s always been the same. Very, very cold.
Sometimes it’s manageable — I can get through the day with the classic sweatshirt, pants and socks. But other days my toes and fingers are white from lack of blood circulation.
There’s a probably bunch of reasons why my house feels like Siberia though. Maybe it’s the fact that my parents keep the house at 63 degrees during the night and 68 during the day. Or maybe it’s that my room is above the garage and has no insulation. Or maybe it’s just really cold outside.
I’m praying for a relaxed, aka warm, winter. Bring on the snow, but let’s just not have too many days under 10 degrees.
Everyday is a struggle when winter rolls around. But some days are worse than others. For example that one week two years ago in February when we had four snow days in a row still brings back bad memories. Or how about the time when I needed three comforters plus multiple blankets before I was warm enough to sleep.
In fact I can already see a morning I’m bound to have this winter: 6:20 AM and my alarm has just gone off. I blink myself awake and flip the light switch. I’m buried under four blankets and two layers of socks, and I really don’t want to get out of bed. I know the second I crawl out my body temperature will probably drop at least 10 degrees. And when I take off my socks, my feet will burn on the hardwood floorboards. Instead, I accept the fact that school isn’t worth it, and it will be ok if I just stay in my bed all day. Sounds good, right? But I can’t do that. Rather, I get up with a fresh pang of regret.
So with the pain of years past looming on the horizon, I’m really hoping this winter is not bad. I don’t think I could bear it.