Yup. Winter is here.
The thermometer on the porch said it was SEVEN degrees (-14C) the other morning. Coldest morning yet this season. The Boy says it was a couple of degrees warmer in the Mancave. The cold has driven him to action … he’s putting insulation up.
I always find the first few weeks of really cold weather trying.
I spend the first week in denial, defiantly refusing to button my coat as I walk really really fast from the car to the office. In the house, the old steam radiators bang to life, hissing and sighing and clanging as they are roused from their summer nap. In spite of their noble efforts, cold drafts appear everywhere. The layered look is in, I hear. We don sweatshirts and socks.
By the second week of the cold snap, we are muttering darkly as we place newspapers over the floor registers. We have random duct work in the house. I don’t know why. All they APPEAR to do is transport cold air through the house. So we cover them with old copies of the Boston Globe. Newspapers are a FINE insulator, and instantly add a bit of “refrigerator box chic” to the ambience, which, you have to admit, is a bonus.
We’re shutting all the doors in the house, which brings me right back to my childhood, and my cousins’ house in New Hampshire, another antique rambler. I now know why they always huddled in one room behind closed doors. It’s WARMER that way.
There are several quilts in the living room now and they get PLENTY of use. We’re wearing sweaters over sweatshirts. Two pairs of socks. We’re sitting on the radiators. (Oh, by the way, drape your towel over the radiator while you’re showering. There’s nothing like a warm towel.)
Jumping between ice-cold sheets at night is just too punitive to be borne, even with a down comforter, and so the electric mattress pad goes on the bed. You know what would be really cool? If I could remember to pre-heat the bed before climbing into it.
THAT would be cool.
I’m baking more.
Hot tea is a joy and a blessing.
Hot buttered rum is pretty nifty too.