Hubs always calls me frigid. If you look in the Merriam Webster Dictionary, there are three meanings of the word; and let me tell you right away, this has nothing to do with sex.
I am cold. ALL THE TIME.
In the summer, it's 21 F and you will find me in pants and a sweatshirt.
When we would scuba dive, I'd wear a dry suit AND polar fleece pants/shirt.
At night I wear full pjs and socks, even...plus two extra blankets.
To freak Hubs out I often sneak up behind him, put my hands on his bare back, and he literally screams because my hands are like icicles.
....The joke is that I'm just frigid. Or, as the dictionary would say...intensely cold.
This morning, on the last Saturday before school swings back into its regular routine, Jake and I had to be up and at his school for a bottle drive. There was no problem waking up, because the 70 km/hour winds and pounding rain had been a good alarm clock. No sitting by the fire with a cup of coffee, like usual.
"Do I have to go?"
"But it's raining!"
"You won't melt. You committed. No bottle drive, no trip."
For four hours, they scampered through the neighborhood pink cheeked, damp, and windblown, collecting bottles from neighbors and pretending their plastic bags were kites. I spent most of it in the car, just helping load and unload the various bottles they collected. The wind rocked the car back and forth and the rain pelted us mercilessly.
Five hours later, I'm sitting by the fire with fuzzy slippers, a huge warm hoody, wrapped in a warm afghan and have drank 2 cups of hot coffee.
Jake scampered up to me, asked if I was still cold, and in response I put my hands on his cheeks.
"YEOW!" he jumped back in surprise. "You are FROZEN! Like the Ice Queen!"
Yep, that's me. Frigid.
Now you know why I requested a hot vacation.