Why morning sex is the ONLY sex in winter

Think about it…you’re cozy in your warm bed. It’s the only time you and all of your extremities are warm. And all of your nighttime, goopy moisturizers have had ample time to soak in.

For me, sex any other time is out of the question. Cuz…

My feet are cold. All the time.

My hands are cold. So cold I prefer washing dishes by hand over loading the dishwasher and pressing its button. It’s the only time my hands get warm.

My nose is cold. And it runs when it’s cold. Not sexy.

My lips get chapped and my skin assumes the look and feel of parchment paper. Doesn’t matter that I suffer that after-shower, standing-there-naked chill cuz-DH-won’t-let-me-jack-the-furnace-up while I slather up in moisturizer. It’s never enough to return my skin’s summer glow.

Ditto for my face. No amount of water-guzzling or specially formulated day cream resurrects the glow. At least the night-time goop leaves it feeling soft. Dull, but soft.

When I DO find a source of chill-banishing heat, I want to curl into it. Curl as in fetal position. NOT stretch out languorously beneath it.

Sigh.

So I exaggerate a bit, but still. At my new job, I have the coldest office in the building. They’ve requisitioned a space heater. It’s that cold.

At home, unless I’m doing housework or working out to an exercise DVD, I’m under a blanket. If it were just me, I’d hawk all my valuables so I could afford enough propane to keep my thermostat at 90 degrees. But since I’m not, I’m under said blanket.

And at play, my winter sports—skiing, sledding and snowmobiling—leave me dry, chapped and smelling of Amsoil. And after a warm shower, my wet hair makes me cold, instantly erasing all traces of my new warm.

And listen to me bitch. About the cold temps. Bet you haven’t heard anyone else do that today.