Ice Blocks
There is one thing I hate about winter. I hate it with every ounce of my soul and my breath. Cold feet. No, I'm not scared of doing something, my feet are simply two blocks of ice. Two frigid blocks of ice that send waves of cold upward through my frame, and try to turn me into one large popsicle.
The only time my feet are warm is at night in bed, and in the evening after I drink some wine with my dinner. Other than that it's almost impossible to feel them warm. Sometimes, when I go shopping or somewhere with central heating, my feet respond to external prompts. But since at home heating doesn't exist, and I'm not about to live at the mall, my feet are cold most of the day.
It doesn't matter what I do. I have bought sturdy winter shoes with a good, thick sole. I have worn wool socks. I have put warm wool insoles in the shoes. It doesn't matter. My feet still get cold. They may stay warmer longer in the morning with those attentions, but, in the end, they feel like they've been stuck in a snow bank.
Just another reason to love summer - warm feet.
The only time my feet are warm is at night in bed, and in the evening after I drink some wine with my dinner. Other than that it's almost impossible to feel them warm. Sometimes, when I go shopping or somewhere with central heating, my feet respond to external prompts. But since at home heating doesn't exist, and I'm not about to live at the mall, my feet are cold most of the day.
It doesn't matter what I do. I have bought sturdy winter shoes with a good, thick sole. I have worn wool socks. I have put warm wool insoles in the shoes. It doesn't matter. My feet still get cold. They may stay warmer longer in the morning with those attentions, but, in the end, they feel like they've been stuck in a snow bank.
Just another reason to love summer - warm feet.
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