Dressed to Kill....

...myself.

Last night I slept with a down comforter, a wool quilt and a thick fleece blanket on top of me and I swear I could still see my breath when I poked my head out of the covers this morning. I quickly rolled over to see how much time I had given myself to get ready for the day.

25 minutes. Perfect.

I straightened my hair at the speed of light and whipped on a couple coats of my almost dried out mascara (I have yet to find the world's most perfect mascara/wand combination). I glanced out the window and saw thick, fluffy, whimsical snow flakes scattering through the sky.

Wet socks suck so boots it is! I decided on my light brown, 3-inch heeled, knee-high leather boots.

Bad idea.

SUPA bad idea actually.

I've kept a tally of how many times I've ended up sprawled about on the pavement due to lack of traction.

So far I'm up to 4 and the day is hardly half over.

Note to self: Nobody notices how totally hot your boots are when you're feet fly over your head because your balance and center of gravity blows and there's 2 inches of ice and slush on the ground.

Naughty Monkey D-Ring Boots. (A.K.A. world's most deadliest footwear)