Sometimes, I get the feeling that someone is watching me. Maybe it’s paranoia. Maybe it’s an overabundance of caution. Or maybe they really are spying on me, waiting for the opportunity to lure me over to the dark side with irresistible temptations. How else do you explain these?
But if -13 degree temperatures hasn’t led me into your cozy shearling clutches, you’re not going to seduce me with a few hundred cheap sequins. My resolve cannot be broken.