Published in On Our Selection News June 19, 2014

I really don’t think people should have to function in winter.

In the past few days, it feels like winter is taking out revenge on us after lulling us into the warm stupor of false security. We all thought winter was gentle and kind, letting us have barbecues and wear shorts. But then the relationship soured with the power of ten thousand lemons. It has untagged us in its profile pictures and poked its tongue at us behind the teacher’s back. The friendship is over. But it can still manipulate us into doing things that will hurt us even more. The cold has gone beyond an excuse to wear cute cardigans and straight into double socking territory.And when things get this bad, it’s hard to behave in a productive or socially presentable manner. Winter is secretly pulling our strings, puppeteering our actions to create misery.

I went to the football on Saturday and due to an unfortunately timed jegging wash, I was unable to wear boots because the only other pair of socially appropriate pants I own can only be pulled off with flats. I hadn’t worn those particular shoes in some time, and it was not until I could feel the painfully icy water from the puddle stepped in seep through my soles into my socks that I remembered why. I came to take pictures of a couple of things, and getting snaps at the Ladies Day function was the last on my list. Unfortunately, I got my times mixed up and had to wait an extra hour for said ladies to arrive. So I sat biding my time in the grandstand while my feet slowly froze. Usually in this situation I would wrap my hair around my neck like a scarf or even keep my face warm through creating instant sideburns by securing my hair in a classic under-the-chin ponytail – but I was sitting in a row on my own and didn’t want to come off as the weird girl in the class who doesn’t talk to anyone and eats the paste.

So I sat there in a perfectly ordinary fashion cursing the cold, and the even colder restraints of society. I was so grumpy that I could barely enjoy the fact that someone had brought a pet lamb along to the match – even his doggie coat did little to warm my icy mood. When I finally got over to the ladies, the top third of my feet were numb, and I felt like I was walking with the flat feet of a duck to keep them devil shoes from falling off my feet.

That was three days ago, and things have not changed. Today’s story is even worse. I decided to come a little earlier today and immediately questioned my decision-making processes. Our building is somewhat not insulated, walking into it first thing in the morning almost hurts. My fingers were so cold that I was about as productive at the keyboard as a hairless house cat with attention issues and six centimetre long acrylic fingernails. When faced with the notion of getting up and going to the bathroom, I actually considered wetting myself for the brief three minutes of warmth it would provide and to avoid facing the cold of the outdoor toilet. This is not right. Later on, I had to walk across the street and when someone asked how I was and I actually responded with “Don’t talk to me, I can’t function right now!” I’m hoping that my tone suggested it was a friendly exchange, but seeing my words in print makes me think that perhaps I have some apologies to make. But it’s not my fault – winter made me do it!