Ok, so it's winter and I understand that. And yes, Parisian winters are more mild than Michigan winters, and I don't know what the hell I am complaining about. But good God, I am freezing.
I'm naturally cold. Very cold. To the point now where it is actually starting to affect my daily life. And worry me.
The problem around here is that my heating is electric. And this might be alright in the US where electricity is one-third the price of French electricity, but I have no option. We have to save electricity in order to eat. Overdramatic, maybe. Very expensive, yes. The other problem around here is that our apartment is on the last floor, which means it is right below the roof. And, despite its small size, it has two chimneys (handy little bookshelves, really). These chimneys are, by law, not usable - too many small domestic fires. Their original purpose has been replaced by its antithesis: cold air comes shooting down, angry that the warm, snuggly air is not working its way up. There is also another "chimney" in my kitchen that opens straight up to the heavens, so that when it rains, my electric stove/oven below is covered with hundreds of little acid raindrops. Saturday, when it sleeted/snowed, well, I had that in my house, too. On several occasions, in better times (ie warm, summer days) I have found pigeon shit there (rest assured: I cook on the other electric two-burner stove - far away from possible outdoor interference).
Combined, this leads to a drafty, drafty house. And those extended Beanie Baby-type things that you set in front of your doors aren't going to slow these drafts down. Nothing will. I would need several Beanie Sumo Men to stop these Icelandic winds. And my apartment is just not big enough to hold five sumo wrestlers.
When I sit and work in front of the computer, I wear three sweaters, two pairs of socks (one wool), with slippers, and my new, fabulous scarf. My medium-thick blanket is pulled over my legs. I pull the heater up next to me. That's right: I got dibs on the fresh heat.
This is, by the way, not in any way shape or form, exagerrated. This is really how I work. I am one step away from putting on my gloves. I just worry about typing.
I cook myself up two or three cups of tea a day. Darjeeling is my current favorite, although I'll slip in a cup of mint if I am trying to avoid the caffeine intake. I'll be warm for about fifteen minutes, but then the constant need to run to the ladies' sets in. All that heat that I worked for so long to trap in the chair/blanket/scarf/heater corner is lost in one fell swoop. So I drink my tea and suppress the urge for as long as possible. Physically uncomfortable, maybe, but less painful than frostbite.
I carefully plan my showers. I must not shower before leaving my house for the day. Going outside with wet hair will set the cold machine in motion, and it will refuse to stop until I get in my bed at night.
And speaking of my bed, could there possibly be a bed any colder than mine? Sure, after 42 minutes, when the combined heat of two shivering, warm-blooded individuals under a down comforter has accumulated to an acceptable level, I can sleep. But those 42 minutes are spent whining, yelping and cursing the bed, house, and cold weather in general.
My boyfriend, who is naturally hot, wears two thick sweaters and a t-shirt when around the house, along with socks and slippers at all times. For him, this is sufficient. I emply all the aforementioned solutions to this cold problem in an attempt to make this winter bearable. But you know what? I am still friggin' freezing. And its not even February yet.
I'm still really cold!