So in an effort to forget that my ears are purple, here are five good things about the cold:
1. Outfit repeating becomes socially acceptable. Or at least less identifiable.
2. I get to discover secret passages that are “warmer longer” and take me through the scary chemistry filled hallways of the Benson building where everyone wears giant goggles and sniffs test tubes.
3. My abnormally slow walking speed has increased tenfold so now I’m at the pace of a regular person.
4. This icicle:
5. There’s ALWAYS something to talk about. (coldness=camaraderie)
a. “Hi, I don’t know you but aren’t you freezing?”
b. “Hi, we’ve reached an awkward part of our conversation, and I don’t really know what else to say so . . . gosh it’s cold isn’t it??”
c. “Hi, I do know you, and even though I’ve belabored the point, I would really like you to understand that I’d probably be warmer if you locked me in the refrigerator.”
This is Sylvia Plath:
She wrote The Bell Jar.
She also stuck her head in the oven to kill herself.
“Do you think that maybe Sylvia Plath wasn’t crazy . . . she was just cold?”
-Lorelei Gilmore
