(no subject)
It's a beautiful Tuesday, November 5. I took the day off because the Poland Spring guy was coming to the house to bring us a water cooler. Dan got tired of my 1,000 bottles everywhere, so we are now the proud owners of a water cooler.
I had one years ago when S and I were married. I had forgotten how convenient it is and how awesome it is to have yummy ice cold water at your fingertips. The tap water here isn't great, but that could just me be and my preference for water that doesn't have a metallic taste.
I cannot believe how quickly time is flying. We've been in this house for a year. It's almost the holiday time. How come days sometime seem eternal and yet years seem to slide by in seconds. For some reason, fall makes me very nostalgic about a lot of things -- college days, old friends. For some reason, crazy things always seemed to happen in the fall, new friendships, new flings, new adventures. Fall seemed to be the season of new. Or maybe it just seems that way.
I am thinking back to the me of years ago and the things I did. Going out all night and going to work the next day. Driving into Hoboken and taking the PATH to NYC to go to South Street. That cool night air of fall, where the smells are heavy, like wood-burning stoves or leaf barrels. In the city, you scramble between buildings to keep the cold air from chilling you, as the canyon effect can leave you breathless and frozen. Scarves and hats for the close-shorn are necessary, but gloves seem to make your hands colder, as pockets can create a warmth that gloves can't match.
Ears. My ears had to be covered by a woolen hat or scarf, or they were frozen for the night. Chilled ears feel so foreign, like they're not a part of you, but instead, some appendage you've grown that seems out of place.
And finding a coat that was substantial enough to keep you warm, yet not so bulky that you couldn't sit down or bend your arms. I would jump into the car and turn it on, heat blasting, and try to take off my coat so I could move my arms enough to drive stick. Coats always got in the way. Too long. Too short. Not warm enough. Too warm. Never did find the perfect coat, although my orange one gets tons of compliments solely because it's not black.
That burning feeling of inhaling cold air, as it rises through my nose. Hard-swallowing cold air, forcing it down into my lungs before it burns, making it impossible to breathe.
The sky. The darkened streets. The stars, on display and less hidden by haze and pollution and people-caused problems. Counting and losing count and starting again. Wishing i could fly up and touch them, having them warm my fingers.
Burning my throat with too-hot cocoa and marshmallows, gloves wrapped tightly around the mug so I don't drop it, again. So hot it burns, but it warms on the way down to my stomach, making the cold disappear, for a second or two.
I had one years ago when S and I were married. I had forgotten how convenient it is and how awesome it is to have yummy ice cold water at your fingertips. The tap water here isn't great, but that could just me be and my preference for water that doesn't have a metallic taste.
I cannot believe how quickly time is flying. We've been in this house for a year. It's almost the holiday time. How come days sometime seem eternal and yet years seem to slide by in seconds. For some reason, fall makes me very nostalgic about a lot of things -- college days, old friends. For some reason, crazy things always seemed to happen in the fall, new friendships, new flings, new adventures. Fall seemed to be the season of new. Or maybe it just seems that way.
I am thinking back to the me of years ago and the things I did. Going out all night and going to work the next day. Driving into Hoboken and taking the PATH to NYC to go to South Street. That cool night air of fall, where the smells are heavy, like wood-burning stoves or leaf barrels. In the city, you scramble between buildings to keep the cold air from chilling you, as the canyon effect can leave you breathless and frozen. Scarves and hats for the close-shorn are necessary, but gloves seem to make your hands colder, as pockets can create a warmth that gloves can't match.
Ears. My ears had to be covered by a woolen hat or scarf, or they were frozen for the night. Chilled ears feel so foreign, like they're not a part of you, but instead, some appendage you've grown that seems out of place.
And finding a coat that was substantial enough to keep you warm, yet not so bulky that you couldn't sit down or bend your arms. I would jump into the car and turn it on, heat blasting, and try to take off my coat so I could move my arms enough to drive stick. Coats always got in the way. Too long. Too short. Not warm enough. Too warm. Never did find the perfect coat, although my orange one gets tons of compliments solely because it's not black.
That burning feeling of inhaling cold air, as it rises through my nose. Hard-swallowing cold air, forcing it down into my lungs before it burns, making it impossible to breathe.
The sky. The darkened streets. The stars, on display and less hidden by haze and pollution and people-caused problems. Counting and losing count and starting again. Wishing i could fly up and touch them, having them warm my fingers.
Burning my throat with too-hot cocoa and marshmallows, gloves wrapped tightly around the mug so I don't drop it, again. So hot it burns, but it warms on the way down to my stomach, making the cold disappear, for a second or two.