You're the only song I want to hear

I'm a surprise-ruiner. I call friends and grandparents three weeks early to reveal what I just bought them for Christmas, and I ask my new boyfriend questions like, "Why do you still say your name when you leave me voicemail?" Must I assault possible future pleasantries because my jerk reaction is to head off any unpleasant surprises? Honestly, I wasn't feeling any worry or discomfort when I asked. It's just that ingrained. God help me, I'm a Cathy cartoon.

:::

My new meditation goes like this:

Winter is great
Winter is great
I won't kill myself
If it goes on too late

I will, actually. But forcing myself to celebrate winter means making a list for the seven people who read this. Oh right, Nick and Patrick are sophisticated boy-lovers who don't keep up with the blogs. Or so they say.

Ten great things about this winter, which I will grow to love. Go.

1. Eggnog -- gives everyone diarrhea, but tastes grrrreat
2. Snow, until you can't go cry about it in the car because your car is covered with snow and the door is frozen shut
3. Layering -- can I wear four wooly sweaters and a coat made of molten lava over a tanktop in Tennessee? No.
4. La sopa
5. Presents, in December, March, and May (I'm graduating, suckers)
6. The new Radiohead album, which is rumored to be appearing in February
7. Not going skiing because I hate it
8. Let's see if I can catch the flu on purpose this year, just to knock out a few weeks
9. Jesus, who takes His joy and hibernates from January until May
10. Sleeping with my comforter thrown willy-nilly over the space heater