It’s official: I hate pants.
Last week contained a long stretch of subzero days. So did the week before. Heeeey, week before that, too. (And it’s getting kinda OLD, Minnesota, any chance you could knock it the eff off?) I don’t have far to walk in the bitter, biting, soul-disintegrating cold, but after a certain number of snot-freezing days in a row, I give up. I tire of dealing with the freezing knees and breeze-tickled ladyparts that come part and parcel with winter skirt wearage. After a certain number of snot-freezers in a row, I will resort to pants. Silk long underwear and heavy duty pants-pants.