We all have these deep dark secrets that contradict everything we show to those around us.
Mine: I don’t hate winter.
I have bitched and moaned and complained about winter VERY loudly on social media and to anyone that will listen to me bitch and moan… I moved from California screaming and kicking and holding on to the door frames by my fingernails because I was pretty darn content to lay by the pool reading a book in January.
but I don’t really hate it that much. (Now that I’ve remembered that replacing my crop tights with full length yoga pants and a hoodie don’t constitute winter clothing.)
It’s quieter this time of year, a welcome break in a place where every waking hour of good weather carries an almost frantic need to be outside before it’s gone. I’m an extroverted introvert and, despite my addiction to sunbathing… I actually enjoy shorter days that give me a really good reason to go to bed at 8:30 pm. I used to spend whole days curled up on my bean bag chair in front of the gas fireplace on our farm, binge reading my dad’s collection of Calvin and Hobbes and avoiding any and all outdoor options that didn’t involve the horses. Which pretty much constitutes my current feelings now, just substitute “happy hour” for “horses.”
I mean…ask me about this in February and I’ll probably give December Annie a very disdaining side eye and the middle finger, but – for now – I’m pretty content to curl up under my heating blanket with a very snuggly little dog and watch Gilmore Girls “A Year in the Life” with my Christmas lights on.
Here’s to going to bed at the same time as 8 and 80 year olds!!!