Ugh, the basement. The basement is a place of cold and discomfort, where spider webs are probably coating the backside of everything you can see. If not black mold. Why am I coughing? Is there a link? No, wait, I had a sinus infection last week. Life is unfair.
It is 6:35 pm and I felt like I was going to sign off for the night, but then I thought - ummm, oh yah. You should probably write tonight. Before you go upstairs. It is bad for your cold fingers and cough, but good for your soul. Write little writer, write!
It is suspiciously quiet. I get why the world outside my window is silent; but for the howling winter winds. I mean, who would venture out into that? It's pitch black and somewhere in the low 40s. I secretly love this.
But why do I not hear music, tv, kitty cats? The rustle of humans and felines above my head, enjoying the heated portions of our house?
Aha - a 'mute' button hath been unpressed. A woman's voice, very old-timey in her diction, is muffled by the floors between us. She is conveying concern for someone. A siren is wailing.
Tomorrow I'm going to try the mountain. By try I mean attach snowshoes and walk on it, and hopefully not wind up in an absurd amount of pain as a result. I've been pretty inactive since October due to really bad IT syndrome. Ever had it? Don't. You wouldn't believe how much such a stupid thing can hurt.
But I need to get out there. As aforementioned, I secretly love harsh weather conditions. It will be sunny tomorrow, meaning blinding white snow and a need for sunburn lotion. I will be sweaty yet cold. Nothing is better than walking on snow, and observing how snow piles itself onto fir trees like Dr. Seuss caps.
It is 6:35 pm and I felt like I was going to sign off for the night, but then I thought - ummm, oh yah. You should probably write tonight. Before you go upstairs. It is bad for your cold fingers and cough, but good for your soul. Write little writer, write!
It is suspiciously quiet. I get why the world outside my window is silent; but for the howling winter winds. I mean, who would venture out into that? It's pitch black and somewhere in the low 40s. I secretly love this.
But why do I not hear music, tv, kitty cats? The rustle of humans and felines above my head, enjoying the heated portions of our house?
Aha - a 'mute' button hath been unpressed. A woman's voice, very old-timey in her diction, is muffled by the floors between us. She is conveying concern for someone. A siren is wailing.
Tomorrow I'm going to try the mountain. By try I mean attach snowshoes and walk on it, and hopefully not wind up in an absurd amount of pain as a result. I've been pretty inactive since October due to really bad IT syndrome. Ever had it? Don't. You wouldn't believe how much such a stupid thing can hurt.
But I need to get out there. As aforementioned, I secretly love harsh weather conditions. It will be sunny tomorrow, meaning blinding white snow and a need for sunburn lotion. I will be sweaty yet cold. Nothing is better than walking on snow, and observing how snow piles itself onto fir trees like Dr. Seuss caps.
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