Sweater Obsessed

I won't be talking about shopping here, although part of this sweater obsession has resulted in me being constantly on the lookout for sweaters. And there are some very nice sales out there, my sweater wardrobe is expanding.

The past few weeks in Denver have been chilly. The temperature varies between cold and most extremely cold, and I just can't seem to get warm. This isn't entirely unusual for me, I've always been found heating my bum near the fire, or cuddled up under as many blankets as can be spared. But this year, instead of just dealing with the cold as I've usually done (and in the past I've eventually learned to get used to the cold) I seem to fear the cold. I take extra precautions against the possibility of getting a chill. Each morning I put on at least two layers, top to bottom. If this keeps up, I'll need to buy half my clothes in a larger size, just so I can fit everything underneath. And still, if you believe, with my thickest and nicest long underwear bunched up under my sweaters and pants, I am still cold. Is there some point where too many clothes provide the opposite effect? Perhaps there is a kinetic battle going on between all my layers, and the cold is winning.

I spend a great deal of time at work lately, and the temperature there is never pleasant. I'm still unable to determine if it's colder than most places, or if I'm just the exception. The other workers seem to be split; sometimes they are wearing their coats and scarves, other times they complain of being too hot. Me, I'm sometimes so cold my nose starts dripping.

And outside, I won't be found without my long down coat. Of course, with all my layers on under the coat, I'm starting to feel like Ralphie's younger brother in A Christmas Story--my arms sticking out straight from the sides of my body, and me waddling around like a fat little duck. 

This morning I awoke to a wet ground. It seems that rain fell overnight. This is highly unusual for Colorado this time of year. Yet it makes me feel like spring is around the corner. Maybe my being too cold is psychological. Maybe now I can believe I'll be warm once again.

Merry Christmas!

Here is a list of things I like:

My down booties...I didn't even know they made these things until recently, and I don't know why I was asked so suffer to long. If only I can convince B&N that I need to wear these to work.

Snowboarding...I love the free feeling, swooshing down the hill, passing skiers from Texas. I also recently discovered how relaxed I become when I listen to music, and how much easier and more fun snowboarding becomes.

The beaded birds on my Christmas tree...they sort of remind me of the National Lampoon christmas tree, which actually contained a squirrel, not a bird. But these birds perch on the branch and make me happy. Who puts beaded birds on their tree? I do.

Going on dates...David took me out to dinner the other night. How nice it was to feel singled out and special!

Online shopping...my new vice. Victoria's Secret is my favorite for shopping, but lately I've been branching out. It's fun to have a package sitting outside the door when I get home. I think I like it much better than physically shopping because I don't have to worry about other shoppers.

Sugar cookies. I challenge anyone to make better sugar cookies than I do.

Leo Tolstoy. War and Peace, Anna Karinina. Most Russian writers, I like. You should too.

Guessing what I'm getting for Christmas...David hates when I guess right. He likes me to be surprised. I think I'm getting a Nintendo DS this year. Or a KitchenAid mixer. I'll let you know...I have a pretty good record.

Spaghetti...need I say more?

Driving fast...now that gas costs less, is it ok? 

Lists...I think lists are great. I like making lists to keep organized. I like using lists for logic. I like seeing objects compared in the same list. I love lists.

Retail, re tale, re tell

I'm working in a store. During Christmas. I feel this gives me perspective on the human race, how they are feeling, what they are thinking, and what the general mood is out there. After surviving the pre-Christmas shop, I can say that overall I am pleasantly surprised. I expected the masses to be raging, for people to pass their frustration on me--the lowly worker bee. For the most part, this didn't happen. Many people passed along their "happy holidays" and "merry Christmases" and "thank you for helping me because I can't help myself-ises." Of course, there were those who couldn't help themselves. They were complainy, wouldn't be satisfied if I had delivered the products to their home in my bikini, and could have done with a good old-fashioned throttle (ah, how I daydream!). 

Which brings me to the next surprise of the season. How short-tempered I've become. Oh how short. tempered. I've. become. Seriously. I'm so easily bothered by how stupid people can be. And how quick they are to treat me like I'm stupid. I cried one day, as one lady impolitely asked me to hurry up and just tell her what the total was, and as she took her dear time writing her check, I just looked over the line of people and realized none of them knew me. How much I like to read. How many instruments I can play. What a delightful sense of humor I have. And the tears came for minutes after that. The customers after her pretended not to notice that I was having difficulty controlling my emotions. No one asked if I was okay. No one told me to take a moment for myself. And ever since that day, I make less of an effort to make the customer care about me. I roll my eyes at them as they struggle to remember the name of the book they drove all the way across town to pick up. I walk away from them before they have a chance to ask another question or (heaven forbid) thank me. I interrupt them when they take too long to say what I already know what they are going to say. One day, a man was in a hurry and decided to take it out on me. I proceeded to move as slowly as possible. What little power I have over the consumer, I have decided to abuse.

This is not me. I don't like it. Yet, I am unable to stop the behavior. Sure, some days are better than others, and I'm able to pull lame jokes out of thin air for the entertainment of my customer, or I'm able to smile through some small abuse. But others are so bad I can feel the hatred seeping out my pores (and I despise anything seeping out my pores). I think the solution is to quit. To stay in bed all day (or for as long as I want), and to never work in customer service again. Problem solved.