Every single morning I hit my alarm seven or eight times, throw my phone, hide under my pillow, and an hour and a half later I rocket out of bed because I'm late for work.
Open the blinds. Fuck. Feel the window. Walk over to the porch door, swing it open. Breathe.
Pick out my socks. Socks set the tone for the whole day. They are the most important thing in my wardrobe.
Every morning, in that order.
This morning there was snow. I could smell it coming, so I knew, but mostly I knew because everyone told me that there would be snow. I never check the forecast. Half the fun of weather is surprise.
In three days I will be in Mexico, and there won't be snow, and I won't need to check the weather. I'm excited, I can't wait, but it's December and this will be my first time leaving the winter during the winter and I prolly won't need socks.
This is weird for me.