Cold Fingers and Toes - A New Season

Perhaps that would be a good title for a TV show. But it is the reality of my life. I love Logan, and this isn't a complaining post about the weather.

Sunday was heavenly in the weather realm. It was about 65 and lovely. Sometimes I wish I didn't have to sit in a chapel for Church. When I was little, I really liked to convince my Sunday School teachers that we needed to have class outside. I should have tried that on the Bishop.

Yesterday it snowed and today it was cold. It was a healthy 35 degrees when I walked home today. Frigid, but beautiful. Because of the snow, the air was really clear this morning and this evening--and the Wellsvilles were stunning with the snow brightening the crevices and peaks under the clouds in the west while the sun set.

Despite the winter beauty outside, my apartment it cold. Andrew and I are lame and it is our own fault. Thanks to my job, we could afford to turn up the heat. But we don't--we're saving up for our house. And, it's harder to fall asleep while studying when you are frozen. Unless you get so cold that you get hypothermia and sleep and then die. But that won't happen in our cool 60 degree apartment cuz we have each other and a snuggly plethora of quilts to snuggle with/under. I think that the worst thing about this place are the cinderblock walls. Whoever thought that would be great insulation is sorely misled. Don't touch it or you will turn into an ice block.

So here I sit, blogging and pondering on the dilemmas and complications of history, while typing with my Batman gloves on my hands, my knitted jacket on my arms, and a heated rice bag on my feet (which in turn are already inside thick wool socks).

Logan Winter, bring it on.

I've lived through you for four years, and I can do it for two more.