Routines, the elusive beasts I’ve been chasing for years and only now, am beginning to understand the true power of.
I’ve officially hit that point in winter called the dregs. It’s that point where the novelty of comfy knitted sweaters and layering up and freshly fallen snow have worn off and now everything feels just borderline annoying.
The 15 minutes it takes to layer up and leave the house, the constant battle of choosing to keep my snow coat on while on the subway and potentially develop heat stroke rather than have to carry an extra layer. The lack of sunshine for days at a time and the constant damp rain. The lack of snow but the rotation of the same snow jacket everyday. The constant hand washing of my favorite sweaters because they’re filled with subway sweat by the end of the day. Not being able to go on long walks due to the wind peeling off the first layer of my facial skin with its ferocity and the intense indoor heaters turning every other bit of exposed skin into a raisin.
Whew, even just reading that back you can tell, we are in the DREGS!
And yet, five years after moving to New York City, I’m still here, much more prepared than when I arrived as a Southern California native, and somehow, even more in love with living here. I know it’s hard to tell after reading through the paragraph above, but that’s the thing about New York, the complaining often comes from the deepest places of affection — much like when you’re talking about your loved ones.
So how much do I love New York City? I love it enough to own two snow jackets that make me look like giant raspberry-colored sleeping bags every day. I love it enough to learn how to endure wearing a snow jacket inside so I don’t have to carry it around when shopping (the key is to take off your scarf and unzip the jacket, it will change your entire game!). And I love it enough to still try and find the silver lining in the deep dregs of winter.
January was the first time in a long time that I was sick sick. Like take-off-work, hole-up-in-the-corner, eat-only-soup kind of sick — which should come as no surprise since almost everyone I know has been hit by sort bug or another since the new year began.
If a friend were to come up to me and say they were feeling ill and considering taking a sick day, I would nearly insist that they did.
“That’s what they’re there for!”
“Your health is a priority above your work ALWAYS!”
“No one wants you to bring your sickness into the office, so go home and take care of yourself!”
I’d say these off without even thinking, believing in them wholeheartedly because, well, they’re true. But despite knowing there is nothing more off-putting than someone showing up to work visibly ill and on the brink of contaminating the entire office, on a Tuesday night in January I found myself Googling at 3am, “how sick should you be to take a sick day?”