Winter

Pretty much. Unless you are a relative (that I know and like, not some distant one I see once every four years) or a dear friend that I never see, no hugs for you.

I hate hugs.

There. I said it.

I don't know why. I'm not traumatized or anything. My childhood was great. I just...I hate hugs. The closeness. The touching. Often, the smell of perfume/cologne. And, in recent times, this odd trend of 'hugging everyone, even if this is the first time you've met'. Seriously, what's that? What happened to the handshake? Or a little bow? That's kinda charming. (No hand-kissing, please, everyone I've known who tried to pull that off made it creepy and weird.) No. It's 'hug' now. Hug or nothing.

But now! Now it is winter (sort of), and winter means flu season. And, more importantly, winter means ways to avoid hugs from strangers. (Family doesn't care. Family just descends on you like hug-vampires and you have to shut up and accept it.)

I love winter. Winter clothes (so soft...), cold nights with coffee with Bailey's in it (that mint kind...*swoons*)...everything. Because it doesn't snow here. If I lived in snow-land I'd probably hate it.

You know what else is great about winter? No hugging. Well, less hugging among casual acquaintances, anyway. Either you run into them while shopping, which means that one or both of you has full hands, or you can claim, 'yeah, scratchy throat, better not'. Because nobody wants the flu.

-Lalla