I am on another level of Hygge than you

Some of you may have heard of "hygge", the Danish word for "a quality of coziness that engenders a feeling of contentment or well-being." Some of you may claim to live it. I am here to tell you that I am on an altogether other level of hygge that you may not even be able to comprehend.

Did I mention that I'm writing this from inside a man-sized mitten? Exactly.

Hygge (pronounced "hoo-ugh", although I hope to god you know at least that much) has been having a moment lately, with best-selling books outlining the ways you can add some Danish coziness to your life. So now people are having a cup of tea in front of a fire and claiming they're hygge.

Get real.

I bathe every morning in a bathtub of Danish mulled wine called Gløgg, richly spiced with cloves and cardamom. I dry myself on sheepskin before swaddling myself in woolens that have been warming by a rustic wood-burning stove. Are those woolens nubby, you ask? Hund please, those woolens are nubby as hell.

Oh what's that? You enjoy a perfectly made latte on a frosty January morning? Whoa now, everybody look out. Don't hurt yourself ryk-ing yourself off. My best friend is a reindeer, you fraud. Jepsen and I nuzzle and share a boatload of sweet, content moments every single day.

I'm sorry, you have an appreciation for the serene quiet that comes with the first snowfall? I hope you also have an appreciation for disse nødder, because here's a hyggebomb for you: I own a snow machine. It's hygge 365 snug-ass days a year at my house, which yes, is a rustic cabin I built myself from carefully selected logs. I don't give a for pokker if it's the middle of July, Jepsen and I will walk together, sharing in the meaningful silence as snow falls softly around us.

Top that, hygge poser.

I live, breathe and die hygge. My knits are so chunky they qualify as morbidly obese. The only light my eyes can accept at this point is the soft flickering of artfully-placed tea lights or the dappled mid-winter sun through bare cedar branches. It is my curse but I accept it, in the name of hygge.

But by all means, enjoy your slippers.

Don't miss anything from CBC Comedy - like us on Facebook.