Today was one of those wonderfully dank and damp days; very English. The sky was the kind of gray you can't even paint but you can feel. Perfect for taking a brooding stroll or staring at from inside with a hot cup of tea or a warm bowl of soup. I got to do all three of those things along with some oatmeal cookies to go with the tea. Another wonderful sensation on a day such as this it putting on clothes fresh from the dryer. Nothing feels quite so toasty and comfortable; it's like getting a hug from your clothes. What bothers me is that it's not the same with keeping clothes cold. Earlier this month, when it was still sweltering and gross, I tried the trick I learned from The Seven Year Itch and put my underwear in the ice box. The cold only lasted for a few moments before I was just hot again. It didn't last nearly as long as tea or soup. Especially not as long as fresh laundry. The warmth from the dryer stays with you longest; it reaches your soul. The cold from the fridge is just a tease. I think that's why I enjoy the cold more than heat: you can always put more clothes on but you can only take so many clothes off. Plus, being super cold outside makes coming inside that much more satisfying.
Yes, I'm a woman of simple pleasures. Of course, I'll be a whiny punk once the winter comes.
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