We’re finally getting a blast of cold weather, and for once I’m not complaining. It’s already mid-January, and winter this year has barely been a blip on my radar. It was only last week that I was getting ready for work when I remembered, Oh yeah. My car has an automatic starter. The snowfall has been pleasantly light (minus the first 13-inch snowfall winter heaved on us), so my Snow Shoveling Rage has had a chance to simmer down on the back burner. I’ve bought a few pairs of extremely warm and toasty socks, I successfully used my circular knitting needles to whip up a soft and comfy infinity scarf, and I typically ensconce myself in a giant fleecy blanket at work because the maintenance guys find it funny to operate a building in which the temperature is never correctly regulated.
So on those rare days when the cold seeps into my bones and lies down to take a long, bear-like nap, I’ve been hauling out my electric blanket. And the pets are ecstatic. Shorty will jump at it as I’m carrying it into the bedroom, Sunny will come galloping off the couch, and even Abby will jump up onto the bed to wait impatiently for me to spread the blanket out, plug it in, and attempt to crawl underneath it before it’s pinned down by 60 pounds of heat-seeking animals.
I do this every morning after I’ve fed the pets and have some time to kill before I need to start getting ready for work. Sometimes I read a book, sometimes I play around on my phone, and sometimes I fall back asleep. But mostly, I just watch the pets achieve various stages of bliss: Shorty circles around and around in my lap before finally plopping down with a satisfied sigh, Sunny curls around my feet like a toasty comma and purrs noisily, and Abby sits so high up on my chest that I can feel her breath on my face as she kneads my neck with her icy paws.
It’s my favorite part of the day. (And one reason why I find it so hard to get going in the morning.)