It's no secret that I've been cold lately. I am willing to complain to pretty much anyone who will listen about how my lips freeze off every morning when I take Daniel for walks. I just didn't realize how far my whining had really reached until last Friday.
My department did a secret Santa deal last week, and my secret Santa had heard through the grapevine and from my own big mouth that I was freezing my tail off in my classroom lately. When it came time to reveal herself, she gave me two gifts:
1. Mittens (awesome)
2. A hot pink Snuggie (double awesome)
In case you've been living in a cave, a Snuggie is a blanket with arm holes. You're supposed to wear it when reading on the couch or watching a football game and it gets chilly, at least that's what it suggests in the commercials. But when you're me, working every day in a cold classroom (cold by my standards, anyway), you wear the Snuggie when teaching.
That's right, people. For the last two days I have been teaching in a Snuggie.
My 2nd period class cannot get enough of this. 'You look like pink Jesus,' one of my students said today as I lifted my arms to adjust the volume on the TV. It was the most confusing of compliments, at first.
'Oh my GOD,' a co-worker said later during a meeting when he realized I was taking notes in my Snuggie. 'You know you're a true Minnesotan when you're so cold you stop caring what you look like.'
Now that was not a confusing compliment. That was downright rude. But do you think I care? Nope. A woman in her thirties chooses to be warm and cozy in a not-so-warm-and-cozy world. She is secure in her Snuggie. She is pink. She is Jesus.