And That's Why I'm Never Leaving My House Again

It's the holiday season and (to me) it's the time of giving.

(Sometimes it's the season of giving the finger.) (Fortunately, in my experience, this is rare.)

But as the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished.

Take Monday night. My oldest child and I signed up to be Salvation Army bell ringers. My youngest (sensing there might be some hot chocolate in it for her) decided to join us. Our chosen location? Outside of a local craft store.

Side note: Ever looked at the sidewalk surrounding a craft store at Christmastime? It is incredibly sparkly from approximately eight tons of glitter that fell off of each ornament, wreath, garland, or nutcracker that ever left the store.

Being outside of a craft store was a strategic move on my part. Sure we were outside in the chilly December air, but the building totally blocked the wind.

And there is a Starbucks conveniently located in the same shopping complex.

Life was good.

Standing outside in the cold December air.

For two hours.

Brr.

It wasn't this cold when I signed us up. It was seventy degrees in Indiana then. Like a fool, I thought that weather pattern would stick around for a while. Not so. Monday night? A balmy thirty-two degrees. I was somewhat prepared though. I had my festive red, fur lined ear flap hat, my festive red scarf, and my long black coat for warmth. My kids were decked out in their winter finery as well.

But still.

Brr.

To keep warm, we danced little jigs while ringing our bells. We marched in place. We did a kick line that would have made any Rockette (past, present or future) proud. And we were still cold.

Once our shift was over, we robotically ran to the car. Robotically because all of our leg joints had stiffened in the cold, so it was more of a series of slow, jerky, can't-bend-my-knees movements. I'm sure it was hilarious to observe.

After a quick buzz through Starbucks for hot chocolate, we headed home with the heater blasting ninety degree air in the Honda.

Twenty-four hours later, I was still cold. I couldn't wait to get home from taking the oldest to piano lessons so I could put on the warmest jammies I have ever known. Coincidentally, they are also the most attractive jammies my eyes have ever seen.

So fantastic are these jammies that I texted this photo to T for the sole purpose of bragging about their awesomeness.

They're Animal print. Get it? Animal print?

Let's break down this photo, shall we? The jammie pants are made of extremely thick, fuzzy, soft material that is the very definition of both comfy and warm. Plus, I bought them a size too big, which adds to the comfort level. I'd love to tell you that I accidentally purchased a size too big, but it was totally done on purpose with the upcoming holiday season (and all of its tasty treats) in mind.

Sometimes I am a real visionary.

To the right of my feet is my stack of unfinished Christmas cards. And by unfinished I mean the cards are still in pieces and I need to finish gluing them together.

Sometimes I am a real slacker.

To the left of my feet is a white bag that looks like it says "non". Actually it reads "Canon" and it is holding my Christmas present. The salesman was trying to be ironic by putting my new Nikon lens in a competitors bag, but he couldn't quite pull it off. He just looked like the south end of a north going donkey.

But back to the jammies.

They are superb. They are magnificent. They are what I would wear to Wal-Mart if I A. Shopped at Wal-Mart and B. Went out in public wearing pajamas.

Neither of which I do.

I am currently comfy and warm. I might never leave my house again.

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