We're all familiar with the fantastic tradition of New Year's resolutions- ridding ourselves of damaging behaviors and situations. Optimistically declaring our intentions to become better people, to change the way we've been doing things, informing everyone of our dissatisfaction with the current state of something in our lives. Resolutions- whether they last into Spring or come down with the Christmas lights- have a funny way of bringing new things into our lives. In our quest to become better, fitter, more interesting, more satisfied, more productive, we seek out new people. New focuses. New routines.
My current New Year's addictions include a fantastic faux fur blanket that is the next best thing to having my actual dog curled up in bed with me. It is silky soft and wonderfully heavy. I feel warm and cocooned beneath it, and I find myself looking forward to the time of day when I can be home, nestled in that blanket.
My preoccupation with this blanket began immediately after returning from Christmas and New Year's with my family. It isn't hard to draw the metaphor- back to the routine of my chilly little house and long hours at work, she sought the warm familiar embrace of her family... Too obvious and melodramatic.
What I really love about the blanket is the luxurious quality it lends to my bed, the comfort it brings when I childishly imagine it is in fact Madison curled up at my feet. Sparkling 72-degree weather weekend such as this one remind me that Spring is on it's way. Maybe not this week, maybe not next week, but it will come. We will turn off the heat, put the jackets away, and switch to plain cotton sheets at night. When Spring comes, maybe I'll stop craving the warmth of my blanket. Maybe.
So now my only question is, will I ever be able to sleep without this fantastic humidifier I've grown so attached to this past week?
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