Dear Kid,

Well, we’ve reached That Time Of Year.

Not post-Halloween candy consumption time.

Not Election Day.

Not even pre-Thanksgiving.

Those are all here, but not what I’m talking about.

It’s the Time of Plummeting Temperatures.

It’s cold.

It’s about 30 degrees below zero in our house.

I tried to explain this to Dad.

Dad: I don’t think the thermometer even registers that cold.
Me: Of course not, that’s why I came to tell you.
Dad: It’s not that cold.
Me: It absolutely IS that cold.
Dad: Put on a sweatshirt.
Me: I don’t have a sweatshirt rated for sub-zero temperatures.

I opted for a really hot cup of coffee. Which helped some, but not enough.

It’s That time of year.

I thought about calling you to talk about it, but my jaw has frozen shut and my fingers are numb.

I thought about adding another blanket to the pile, but being buried under 17 blankets (and a comforter) seemed excessive.

I thought about getting my ski gear on, but that would involve slithering out from under the blankets, and that seemed unnecessary.

So I’ll continue to shiver. Until I begin to acclimate.

Because it’s THAT time of year.

Love, Mom

P.S. AND it’s Election Day. So if you know someone who hasn’t voted, please remind them. It’s THAT important.