Since the day I decided to move out to Maryland, Dad has been trying to convince me to wear Mom's huge green/brown down winter coat. "You'll look so cute and warm!" he would often say. Or "When it is 10 degrees at the bus stop, you just put the hood on and turn your back to the wind and it will be 75 degrees inside there."
To which I would respond something along the lines of "Hmm, yes." While actually thinking, "But there is the good chance that the bus might also refuse to pick me up because the jacket cannot fit inside."
So far, this winter, the jacket has sat in the closet. Until this morning, when Paul told me it was supposed to feel like the single digits because of the wind in DC today.
I got the jacket out of the closet. Sort of as a joke.
When I put it on and twirled ambled in front of the mirror, Paul noted I looked like a Jeti. Assuming that was code for a mother bear who is settling into hibernation, I got second thoughts. But, he followed up like a pro and reassured me that no one would make fun of me, and if they did, who cared? I would be warm.
So I wore the jacket of the house. And to the metro stop.
At this point in the tale, it is important to really visualize the jacket. Imagine your sleeping bag. In a brownish/green color. Now imagine fluffing it up to twice it size and putting it on upside down on your head. Imagine cutting a hole in the top for your face and attaching curled pillows as armholes.
Now trip over something on the ground and Congratualations, you are in my life.
However. As I stood at the metro stop and looked at all the shivering saps in their regular gortex or whatnot jackets, I felt pretty damn cool. cute. warm.
