Frivolity and Rum

Today began with a sulk, for I discovered that due to the tolls of winter slothitude, I no longer fit into my favorite pants. But I will not throw them out or donate them. I will merely reinstate my (formerly) daily run/climb as soon as the weather permits.

And now a note on weather permitting my exercise routine.
Ahem.

It's like this: I'm a whiny puss from the Gulf Coast. If it's below 40 degrees, I won't subject myself to the out-of-doors unless it's an absolute necessity - and exercise is nothing of the sort. If it's raining beyond the typical Seattle drizzle, I won't do it. If it's windy as hell, you can just about forget it then, too.

But for the last couple of months, it's been raining, 40 degrees or less, and windy like whoa. So I have scarcely been outside, and I might have hypothetically developed an unhealthy habit of swilling hot butter rum every night - and did I mention that the sun starts going down around 4:00 p.m.? I don't know how many calories are in hot butter rum, but anything with "butter" right there in the title is pretty much a challenge to pants everywhere, or so I am forced to assume.

Oh well. No one's fault but my own.
And Seattle's.

Anyway - inspired (or shamed) by my failure to successfully pantsify myself, I hiked down to the salon today and got my hair did, despite the nasty-ass weather. (Before you ask, yes, I wore pants. Different pants.) My roots are now touched up, my ends are snipped, and all is well on the personal grooming front.

For bonus girliness, tomorrow I'm getting a manicure with my friend Nova, for no reason other than the fact that I am a civilized grown-up, dammit, but you could not prove it by looking at my hands. And also because I found some adorable smoky/pearly gray polish that will look a hell of a lot better if somebody other than me applies it.

I may not visit the outdoors much this time of year, but by golly, I can match it!