Just came in from the cold
2002 05 13
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The world is a grey, damp, cold place today. I rubbed a palm-sized spot through the condensation on my window, to see the drips and splats still hitting the glass, still hitting the pavement, still making everything chilly and muted.
it's not the kind of rain you share with a friend, when you both stumble into the wind, umbrellas blowing inside out, but you're still laughing, because the damp doesn't reach you then. This is huddled in front of a fire rain. This is curled up in front of the TV rain. The kind that begs for mugs of cocoa and hot tea; that begs for cosy sweaters and big blankets.
I never liked this weather much. It seeps into your bones and tenses your body. You feel cold from the inside out, that creeps in with the draft around badly sealed windows.
Darkened streets are miserable. Night time is lonely. Sleeping is erratic, uneasy, and full of unrelieving dreams.
Tomorrow they tell us we'll have sun. Tomorrow the air will be warm and pleasant. Tomorrow I can stretch, go outside, and not feel like a frigid snail biding time inside her protective little shell.