Cold front

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So, it’s winter. I don’t know why this is a perpetual surprise. I have lived in a four-season-weather state my entire life. Nonetheless, hope springs eternal that we will somehow not have a frigid winter. December often teases us with a relatively mild weather. We get smug wandering around with a couple light layers, maybe a sweater or sweatshirt, coats left in the car. Then, January comes and takes our breath away. Now is the season of people shouting, “shut the door!”

I do enjoy those first frosty days. I put on a cozy sweater, make gallons of chili and soup and plot my expensive and wildly impractical plans for spring landscaping projects. In a perfect world, Mr. Wonderful would figure out a way to block my access to Pinterest from now to June.

My main winter hobbies also include complaining about fuel oil bills. As someone residing in a rural area that is not served by natural gas, we rely on home heating fuel. It will forever remain a mystery to me that the state deems food a non taxable “necessity” but home heating oil is not? The prices are already exorbitant without adding a few hundred dollars in sales tax to every delivery. I need to write to my congressman or someone about that. I probably won’t but it’s good to have a plan.

Based on past practice, it is far more likely I will bake cookies and binge watch British mysteries on television. I also enjoy cleaning and organizing — donating and throwing copious amounts of things away. This is balanced by my addiction to antique stores and estate sales. Last weekend, I traipsed through three estate sales “just to look.” This is why I now own one ceramic cabbage (slightly cracked but still adorable), linen dish towels and an early copy of Anne Morrow Lindbergh’s “Gifts from the Sea.” I also had the opportunity to view a multi-million-dollar home. I am not one to ever throw stones at anyone’s house — glass or otherwise. This 20,000 square foot monolith, however, was underwhelming.

I suppose being the size of a small mall doesn’t lend itself to cozy. I’m just not sure I could ever pad around in a robe and slippers, sipping coffee in a kitchen with three islands and a bank of cater staff lockers as far as the eye could see. To be fair, I’m sure they wouldn’t be all that impressed with my home either — even if the entire structure could fit in neatly inside their foyer.

In comparison, the other two homes were cozy ranches oozing with charm. I’m still daydreaming about a sunroom with windows overlooking a charming backyard. Even in winter there was a lovely view. The room was human-sized and lovely. I could definitely imagine sipping coffee there.

I think it’s fair to say that I’m just not a mega mansion kind of gal in any weather. I also know I am officially an adult. I no longer see a giant luxury home and think “oh wow this is amazing.” No, I’m now that person muttering, “I can’t imagine the heating bills on this place!”

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