Mixed Messages

SM is laid back in his recliner the other evening, appropriately attired for the cold winters night in sweatshirt, sweatpants and thick socks.  Thick, soft blanket tucked in at his side.

I go zinging by him.  

(I do that a lot.  Zinging.  I'm always in motion. Busy, busy, busy...) 

Anyway, as I go zinging by, SM puts out a hand and says "Hold up a sec..."  He sits up and starts laughing.

"I oughta take a picture."  He says, fingers around my wrist, holding me still as he eyeballs me up and down.

"What?!?" I ask, looking down at myself. 

Oh.

On my feet, wooly winter socks.
Bare legs (in need of some good moisturizer I might add.)
Summer cotton PJ shorts.
Light cotton short sleeve T-shirt.

And my winter snow cap on top of my head.




"What the hell?"  SM asks me with a smile.

"Regional hot spots."  I explain.  His eyebrows go up, clearly confused.

"Look, my head and feet are cold.  My legs and tummy are hot.  But come to think of it, the back of my arms are freezing."  I say rubbing my arms to get some warmth going. 

SM shakes his head and rubs a hand over his face.  "You do know it's about 20 degrees out there don't you?"  He asks, head tilting outside.

"Yeah, well tell that to my inner thermostat.  It's on the fritz again."  I say as resume my zing.

What I'm gonna this Summer, I have no idea.

Sweat, I guess.