The Mountain Dew was 88 cents, so I gave in to old habits. Since bringing the jug home a few hours ago, I've easily had 3 glasses, all in my red, plastic Pizza-Hut cup. So now with the buzz only barely tempered by the blaze, I'm lying awake next to this thin, punctured, patchwork of glass.
I can feel cold air and the chill of the occasional snowflake on my arms (they're outside the heavy blankets) whenever the wind whistles into our house. The strong drafts come with the strong gusts of blowing snow discernible through the grating (welded across our view). And with each of the strong ones, the plants bounce and wiggle on the breeze.
It's not that cold, just drafty. You make trade-offs to live in a space like ours. The heat is expensive, and because of the massive air volume in our place, it could never get toasty, you know that.
It's a compromise I'm happy making though. I'd rather it feel like a hard football field in November (in which I could literally toss a ball), than the 6' cube of dank steam that my Manhattan counterparts endure.
You guys have got to go to the landlord and get the window fixed. I can hardly stand to think of you that cold and unprotected. xoxoxo
Could this be Moma hen (aka mj aka mamajama) worrying about one (or indeed two) of her chickens?
Methinks it could be. The xoxoxo gives it away.
(Forgive me if there are other equally caring people out there!)
It's not that cold, just drafty. You make trade-offs to live in a space like ours. The heat is expensive, and because of the massive air volume in our place, it could never get toasty, you know that.
It's a compromise I'm happy making though. I'd rather it feel like a hard football field in November (in which I could literally toss a ball), than the 6' cube of dank steam that my Manhattan counterparts endure.
We're warm,
A.
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