It's just gotten a bit cold this time of year, around +5*C or a little below, and the radiators haven't really started to kick in yet. My lame Ashkenazi Jew circulation can't handle this shit and I'm always moping around in my beautiful fingerless wool gloves and shearling slippers but my feet are frequently blocks of ice anyway, because we don't have the equivalent of cups of tea to wrap them around.
Or at least, we didn't. But at
bexless's suggestion I have started filling my hot water bottle and putting it under my feet (all wrapped in a fleece blanket of course) while I sit at the computer snuggled into my pillows and blankets and cardigans and sweatpants and goatskin rugs. Bliss!
I feel sad and guilty that I haven't got to write the last few days. SAD. And GUILTY.
Or at least, we didn't. But at
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I feel sad and guilty that I haven't got to write the last few days. SAD. And GUILTY.