The cold weather has made my hands extremely dry. So dry that the skin on some of my fingers is cracking. It's gross. Super gross.
So the other night, I was looking for gloves to wear overnight, so that I can lotion up my hands and lock in the moisture. I couldn't find any, so my husband grabbed his gloves from the car. They're a pair of warm, black gloves.
"Are you sure? I'm going to get them all lotiony," I said.
He insisted, so I put them on. Got under the covers. Kitty curled up on by my side.
I was getting settled in, bundled up and all. I softly pet my cat's head with my gloved hand.
I started to laugh.
My husband asked, "What's so funny?"
I said, "I feel like a villain."
I felt like the character "A" from Pretty Little Liars, who is always doing something creepy, like playing with a doll or caressing something with gloved hands, in the ending scene of every episode.
The image of a black-gloved hand softly petting a kitty is super ominous. Like, hmmm, is that cat in danger? What horrible things is the owner of the black-gloved hand plotting?
Is the cat in on it?
Pair the image with some dark, brooding orchestral music, and that's basically the opening of a thriller.
In the end, I couldn't bear the warmth, so I pulled the gloves off before I drifted off. I'm not cut out for villaining.
My hands are still dreadfully dry, if you're wondering. If I WAS a villain, I'd be gross hands girl. I wouldn't do anything evil, I'd just sit around and be gross.