just matter.

I always slow down during the winter months. My body and mind retreat into my skin, shivering and huddling for warmth. I remember falling asleep curled up in the fetal position, and I woke up the same way, which rarely happens. Instead of fully participating in impromptu snowball fights with my roommates and friends on the night of the first major snowfall, I stay inside and order a pizza because I have no waterproof gloves. The heater is nearly always turned up in my room, and I swear all the stupid windows let the cold air in between the top and bottom rails. I even wear multiple layers to bed.

(Remind me why I want to go to Iceland? Oh. Wait. Okay.)

Even my mind contracts within itself for heat; and that's where I get lazy. I move slow, so I don't accomplish much. And I ache for more warmth...sometimes heat provided by another body...and that's where it gets dangerous. Especially when I think of four different vassals. Not good. Some might call it crazy, in fact, and I wouldn't argue with them.

And then my writing goes nowhere, and that's where it gets boring for the reader. But I do more writing, so that's where...where I...well, if that don't beat all--I just lost that thought. Well, I'm glad the show is over, at least.

Hello, hybernation.