November 30, 1999

Hints of Winter

The air is more than just brisk today. After swinging back and forth between balmy and chill, the weather has finally settled into the more familiar pattern of gradually increasing cold. The kind of cold that takes my breath away and reminds me of the frailty of all human-kind.

It's not quite killingly cold yet, but that rumor of ice and snow to come is there in the wind, whispering softly, seductively in my ear under the brim of my hat.

I brought out my thicker coat today along with a scarf and the cute Polartec hat that a kind soul sent me two years ago now, when we had very little money and I lost my coat at the Metro station right before Halloween.

That hat is one of my favorites. It has a nice shape and it's incredibly warm. Unlike many hats, it doesn't hang too low on my forehead either, but it's not too high so my ears don't wind up hanging out in the wind.

On the drive into work, the heat in the car was welcome at first, but became suffocating toward the end of the route, as it always does. Outside of the slightly frost-rimmed windows, the sun was bright and clear, casting crisp shadows across the tarmac and highlighting the last few clinging red-brown leaves that will not leave the shelter of the trees behind.

I am swamped with work and again we are in a bad position financially speaking, and right before Christmas too, but somehow all of that seems distant -- removed from me by an invisible veil.

All that I see is the sun rising over the trees in the morning, all I feel is the cold wind growing and the sleepiness of a bear just before it turns into its lair for the winter.

Every evening, I resolve to do xyz tasks, but they remain incomplete as Sabs and I curl up under the blankets on the couch, tangling our feet together as the cold begins seep into the apartment and the needle on the thermostat make a slow journey upward towards 68.

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