Fall just got up and left my ass sometime last week or the week before. By “fall”, I mean autumn. Cool mornings, windy days, leaves falling. Wonderful temperatures for walks.
All the trees outside my dorm window are ass-bare (and the curtains are most definitely closed when dressing now… not that we were flagrant with nudity when there were leaves, but, you know), and I hate to get up in the mornings because it. Is. Cold. Folks from Indiana, Kentucky, Ohio, etc., are laughing at me, because it’s not even winter yet (according to them), and I’m already dressing in layers. Fuck “it’s not winter yet”. When the high for the day is 50 degrees Fahrenheit, it’s winter, folks. Fourteen years of Texas has taught me this. And they haven’t even cut on the heat in my dorm building yet, so I’m all up under my two blankets at night in my flannel pajamas and boot-socks. But then, I’m one to wear flannel pajamas (sans the socks) in the summer, so that may not be the best indicator of the temperature.
I just feel like hibernating. Make a Mug (my 24 oz mug is known as the Mug) of hot tea, curl up with Anne Rice’s or David Weber’s books, and wait this whole snow and biting cold and ice and wind chill factor thing out.