The flames are roaring in the fireplace, consuming the firewood at a terrific rate. It's necessary, I need to keep warm. I'm shivering this morning. It's about 55 degrees outside; but that's 55 degrees without any blanket of humidity to take the edge of it. It feels more like forty. Or thirty. Or some other meaningless number. It doesn't feel like a number at all. What it feels like is cold. I'm wearing thick socks and house shoes; I'm thinking about putting another pair of socks on. I'm still wearing my flannel pyjamas. On top of those; I'm wearing the most snuggly shirt I've got; one that had served me well protecting me from a howling wind 315 feet off the ground in a theme park in Ohio. In October. I throw on another piece of firewood; I have to keep this going. The laptop is living up to its name, trying to keep my legs warm with it. I shiver again, and put the kettle on for something warm, comforting, some tea with something spicy in it, maybe some ginger. I might even be talked into a cocoa.
