It was one of those beautiful nights – a clear deep blue sky pierced by the light of thousands of stars. And by Florida standards, it was cold – down in the low 50s. We’d enjoyed a moon- and starlight walk in our sweatshirts, locked the doors for the night and wandered upstairs to get ready for bed. The windows were wide open, allowing the winter breeze to drop the indoor temp into the 60s- perfect for kicking the dog to the foot of the bed and snuggling up close under the quilts.
It was as I was choosing my PJs that I had thoughts of how to nudge the hubby beyond snuggling into something that might make things a little hotter under those quilts.
Seeing that dear hubs was already in his practical flannel pants, I opted for the same. But why not have some fun? In my head, I imagined an artful sendup of the strip tease. I would slowly (and with a magazine photo shoot “come hither” look) cover myself instead of uncovering.
You know how a toddler learning to put on her clothes will sometimes find herself standing on her own pant leg and fall down as she pulls it right out from under herself? It’s so cute… the surprised look, followed by an endearing thud onto a diaper-clad bum.
Turns out that a surprised look isn’t very alluring. And when you’re 40+ and twice the height of a toddler, the pants-leg-induced fall isn’t nearly so cute, nor is the thud endearing. More like terrifying.
So… Instead of inspiring my husband to saunter over and embrace me in my middle-aged sexy silliness, I inspired an adrenaline-infused sprint across the room to assure I wasn’t in need of a trip to the urgent care clinic (I wasn’t).
The good news? Snuggling makes a bruised ego feel better. Sometimes snuggling is warm enough.
And I hear the polar vortex is going to keep things chilly for a while longer…