06 February 2007

Fashion Week in My Apartment

Last night, while trucking through my DVR list (best night I'll have all week), I wore: tights, fleece pants, socks, slippers, a zip-up fleece, a zip-up hoodie, a hat, and, for the latter part of the evening, my to-the-knees down coat. Hot accessories this season: a wool blanket, and two cats who have plastered themselves to my lap since temperatures started to drop. This ensemble was an experiment in the heat-trapping powers of fleece, abandoning a sub-fleece t-shirt for the first time, which I think was a success. Bonus points: the fleece was tucked into my pants. To eliminate drafts. And for extra sexy points. Obvs.

(I've started using "obvs" lately, semi-ironically, semi-because Gawker infects my brain. I should probably stop.)

Did I mention our boiler's broken? I came home last night to a sign on the front door: no hot water or heat Tuesday for the boiler to be fixed. Which explains the day last week when there was completely no hot water for morning showers, and I washed my face with kettle-heated water, 1800s House-style. It also explains why I haven't been able to get warm for five days. My room's got obscenely drafty windows (my gauzy curtains billow with the cold air whooshing in), so for bed last night, I took off the tights, tucked my pants into a heavier pair of socks, and slept under three blankets. Yes, with my motherfucking winter coat still on. (That's just depressing.) And a space heater borrowed from work doing absolutely nothing. This sounds ridiculous and silly, but even with my famously icy extremities, if I was that bundled and not uncomfortably warm, the room must've been pretty frigid, no? I had to move to the living room for half the night the night before, so I don't consider this unnecessarily extreme. Better to feel kind of ridiculous - and, of course, proceed to tell everyone about it - than to wake up sore from clenching my body into an immovable, heat-conserving ball all night.

Since college I've had what James calls The Indoor Hat, an Old Navy fleece trapper hat that my mom talked me into buying at some point - it looked slightly less ridiculous when I had long hair, but it was never really okay. So, when living with James senior year, and his freak metabolism set us in constant thermostat war, I'd wear this hat inside, with my sweatshirt and slippers, peeking out from a pile of blankets on the couch. The Indoor Hat's always been silly, but it really does work, and I like adding it to my register of named accessories. But when the Indoor Hat, ear-flaps tied tightly under my chin to keep my face warm from the draft blowing through my "closed" window, is the least ridiculous item I've got on, it's serious trouble.

I'm going home early to see the super today, to show him my freak windows, to explain that the foam stripping doesn't work, and that it, like plastic insulation, would get shredded by my (not-exactly-allowed) cats, and to beg for him to let me buy the sexy black-out curtains I saw at Bed Bath & Beyond to keep the wind out. Which are actually hideous, but who's seeing them, anyway. And then I'm going to the gym, the only place where it's warm.

Also, wearing leggings under my jeans make me constantly feel like my pants are falling down. Okay, that's all. Whining done.

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