I must be a reptile.

Let’s think about it a minute. I’m cold. A-L-W-A-Y-S C-O-L-D! I’m cold at any given moment and seeking some source of warmth. You’ll almost never catch me without socks on because my feet are always freezing. I’ve found that if my feet are cold, I’m cold everywhere... so I keep a stock pile of white crew socks and slippers for warming my tootsies. I found these awesome microwavable socks at the drugstore that stay hot for about 30 minutes at a time. I swear they are the best thing since sliced bread but rate about a "0" on the attractiveness scale.

My house has an assortment of chenille throw blankets scattered around the couches and beds which I find handy to slither under while reading or watching television. I love coming home at the end of the day and crawling under the blankets of my soft bed. It’s my favorite part of being home.

I love the way the sun feels when it shines on my skin. The sensation can lull me to sleep in seconds but don’t worry…I don’t sunbathe as a rule because I’m not fond of leathery skin. Leathery skin reminds me of snakeskin handbags and shoes, which in turn, give me the willies. According to my Chinese horoscope I was born in the year of the snake. I have no idea if this has any relevance to my cold natured-ness or my aversion to reptilian accessories but it’s pretty darn coincidental if you ask me.

Most humans find the cooler temperatures pleasant, setting their home and car thermostats to 70. That’s parka weather for me guys! I keep mine set around 80. When the majority of people in a room start complaining that it’s getting stuffy…I’m finally defrosting and feeling rather comfortable. One would think that living in the south would be ideal for us snake sorts, and I’m inclined to say that it is…only there is one small catch 22.

Air conditioning.

It’s 102 degrees outside and being the fashion conscious monger that I am, wear the corresponding summer attire, a tank top…cotton skirt, or some little linen frock. Then I step inside any given office building, shopping mall, or grocery store, and the temperature is set to ice burg. It then becomes necessary to throw on a sweater and spend the next hour shivering in my cute little ankle strapped sandals.

Eventually I go back outside to my car which has now escalated high enough in internal temperature to bake a loaf of bread, so I take off my sweater. This little song and dance goes on throughout my daily chores and assorted appointments. Sweater on, sweater off, sweater on, sweater off. Hot, cold, hot, cold, which inevitably leads to a head cold, head cold! I suppose it’s a small price to pay considering the alternative of shoveling snow and scraping icy windows. I’ve done that too my friends and let’s just say it’s what drove me out of Europe like a snake from Ireland.

Then comes the winter. Miserably cold outside, so naturally I take to layering my silk long johns accordingly. Come inside and what does everyone do, but complain that they’re hot and want to turn the darn heater off! This annoys me because I’m usually frozen solid by this point and would rather crank the heater high enough to defrost my frigid extremities.

How is it that everyone’s internal temperatures vary to such extremes?
I’m fighting an instinctual urge right this very moment to go look for a sunlamp and a big rock to lay on. I guess I’ll go make a cup of hot tea instead and read some blogs.