No, I do not own a purple tankini, and if I did, it probably still wouldn't be that awesome. Yes, I do have a pair of socks that look more or less like those. No, I do not frequent saunas, and certainly not by myself. Yes, my skin is really that color. Ask anyone who's seen me slathering on sunscreen at the beach. My only colors are snow white, or lobster red. I'm not even one of those people whose sunburn turns into a nice tan after a few days. No. I just go straight back to white.
Naturally, winter is a time of much dread for me. If I'm cold when it's 73 degrees outside, my blood starts to turn to an icy slush when the mercury (or whatever they use now) hits anything below 40. My poor roommates have to deal with me marching around the apartment, griping about the cold. "We pay good money to go here! They should give us decent heat!" "That window is drafty! No wonder it's so freezing in here!" "I feel like I'm sitting outside in the snow! Naked!"
Fortunately for me (and probably my roommates) I received a heated blanket for my bed as a Christmas gift. Now, instead of piling on layer after layer of socks, slippers, shirts, sweatshirts, sweatpants, and blankets, I can sit in my bed and turn what I like to call "the dial of warm." There are ten levels on the dial of warm. L, the numbers 2-9, and H. I think the L and H are supposed to stand for "low" and "high," but I'm pretty sure they should stand for "Lame" and "HOLY HECK THAT'S HOT!" or "SPONTANEOUS COMBUSTION," even though that doesn't start with an H.
When selecting "L" on the dial of warm, I don't feel warm. In fact, I'm still quite cold. Just as cold as I was before I turned the dial. Usually 5 or 6 is surprisingly warm. Warm enough to have me kicking the blanket off by morning, so I'd say the blanket does its job. I've never actually turned the dial of warm all the way to "H." I'm a little scared of it. I'm afraid I might wake up with my head in flames.
That would definitely put a damper on my morning. My whole day actually. Maybe even the rest of my life. However long I might be able to live after waking up with my head aflame.
Other than the risk of spontaneous combustion, the only downside to this blanket is that I now spend approximately 85% of my day in bed. Most of the time I'm not sleeping, though I do nap sometimes. I'm just trying to stay warm. I'm like some small animal in a burrow. I only leave for necessities like food or chapstick. Then it's straight back under my blanket. Back to my warmth.
I should really live someplace else. Someplace warm, where they don't have snow in the winter, and the temperature is always hovering around at least 75. I don't know if that place exists, but if it does, someone let me know. I might start saving for a vacation home. My socks and I will love it.
