Of blankets and toes

It is unseasonably warm, like we jumped clear over Spring and landed well into Summer.  This makes dressing in the morning very difficult for me, because there has been no transition from long sleeves to to three-quarter length, or even from three layers to two layers.  No, we are suddenly exposing elbows and ankles and I'm just not prepared for it.  I feel naked without a jacket, and my toes are too bashful to be on display so early in the season.  I'm reluctant to take the blanket off my bed, because what if the temperature plummets?  I don't know about you, but once I'm in bed, it takes a tornado (or a royal wedding) to get me up again before the alarm goes, even when the awareness of turning into a block of ice is niggling at the recesses of my subconscious mind.

There is a children's book about a little girl's sandals flying south for the winter.  If my summer shoes had done the same thing, I'd be wearing boots in tropical temps because they were held up in the Atlanta airport on their way back home.

I'm not complaining, you understand.  I'd just like a little time for the necessary buffing and polishing.