So I've been sitting here for the last however long, listening to Taylor Swift and trying to come up with something witty or impressive to say. This is all I got:
My toes are cold.
That's really about it. My fingers and toes are feeling pretty icy. My slippers have disappeared to that magical land where all lost slippers end up, and digging up enough effort to find a blanket or my munkin would take me away from the computer, then I would never get this blog in.
Oh, but how great does my munkin sound right now! You're saying, Erika, what in the name of all that is Blustery is a munkin? You wouldn't, seeing as I made up the word years ago. The joy of dancing around in my munkin made me think of the joyful little munchkins from The Wizard of Oz, and some how my less-developed but more-creative mind came up with the name munkin.
A munkin is warmth itself. It is perfection in a blankety-robey-pratically-sleeping-baggy thing. Fleece footy pajamas, without the feet. Kind of like those ''Snuggies'' (which I read somewhere were a big turn off as mothers' day gifts. I don't know why. I'd love one.)
I got my first munkin when I was but a wee little lass. I honestly don't remember when. It was red, and incredible, and I made sure to wear it on Christmas. Brittany got one in green. The problem was, in all the excitement of Christmas I quickly overheated and had to remove the beloved garment.
A couple of years ago Mom got me a new one. It's baby blue with white cuffs, and I love it. Unfortunately, it's a bit short in the arms and legs, so I have to find long socks to go with it. Small price to pay for the most cozy covering ever!
Moral of the story? I love my munkin.
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