It's high-beam time

I didn't think much of it when the hailstorm kicked up out of nowhere this afternoon, though it had Friday glued to the window in fascination for at least 15 minutes. Those can happen at any time of the year here, so the weather didn't receive a second thought.

Then I decided to walk down to the mailbox, and I threw on my grey velvet jacket. I was already in a long-sleeved shirt, so I figured I'd be plenty warm. I figured plenty wrong. BRRRRRRRRRR! My nipples are still making a mockery of my best bra.

All that unseasonal warmth had me lulled into a false sense of security and a genuine sense of dumbassedness. But now, yes, it is November in Michigan, and suddenly it feels like it out there. Time to admit the velvet jacket is only decorative and dig out the Official Winter Coat. I still need to get a pair of boots, because somehow I don't think my slippers or my Skechers with the gaping holes in the sides will cut it once the snow begins to fall and so rudely stick to the ground.

Soup Season has begun in earnest. Please bring me some. Help these wretched nipples thaw.