the cold.

 

 dear spain,

it's not funny anymore. 

last night i slept with flannel sheets. and seven blankets. yes, seven. i slept with three pairs of socks on. oh, and my slippers. on. in bed. i slept with two pairs of thick velvet pants. and a long sleeve shirt. a sweatshirt. a thick robe. a winter hat. and the hood of the sweatshirt drawn really tight. i don't have gloves, so i wrapped my hands in the seven blankets. and shivered. and shivered. and shivered.

spain, come on. it was funny at firs....no. it has actually never been funny. just cold. painful and cold. i really do love you, so can you just do this one thing for me? can you get rid of some linoleum? get rid of some cement? fix the breeze coming through the window? install some heaters? just one? one heater in the house? is that asking too much? ya, i know you're no mongolia, but right now, you're on my bad list. 

thanks. 

love,

michelle

ps. it's official. going to amsterdam in two weeks!