I have a new monitor. I got it a couple weeks ago, but in my need to have it NOW, I bought it while in Grey County... where it then had to stay with me afar, unable to treat it how it should, like a new best friend.
It's cold. Flesherton is almost always cold. It can be sweltering in Toronto, Guelph, or London, and when I come home, I have to wear a sweater if the sun's hiding from me.
Consequently, I have a lot of fav memories (yah, I wrote "fav") of me and the cold, chilling together. I consequently grew up in sweaters and have lots of sweet memories with them. "Richard, why are you wearing a sweater? It's 27°C out!" "Go die Monica." That's an example of a sweet sweater memory. It's also a rare event, I think.
Anyway, the other day I went to play tennis and it was chilly and I had to jog a little to survive before we got to the courts, and then it was overcast and the air was rife with the aroma of freshly decayed tree rot. That was good. That was quite nostalgic. Later in the evening I was out with Liv and couldn't find an opportunity to express to her how awesome I thought the atmosphere around us was, as it grew cooler and bitterer. I think I did articulate parts of it eventually, when I was dangling of a gym set. She probably doesn't realise how much I enjoyed being out there with her at that moment, as the context might be misleading. I like calling her Olive. It seems strange now, but forget that. I will call her what I want when I want. So sayeth me, master of my mind.
So yah, the cold. My house must be devoid of anything a reasonable person could name "insulation" too. As my knowledge of thermal dynamics increases (marginally), I have improved my coping mechanisms. Rather than shivering all night until I pass out, I now cocoon myself (cocoons are amazing). It's amazing, tightly enwrapping yourself and conserving the heat your body generates, enough to get you comfortably through the night, and to prompt you to remain still for hours upon waking, for fear of re-entering the well refrigerated house of my youth. That might be why I have fewer problems with exposed food expiring outside of the fridge: there's no temperature difference.
But that time, bundled away, is great for reflection. I still do it these days a bit when I wake up and am incredibly cozy, waiting for the world to start around me. The more time I have to Think and the fewer distractions I have from it (e.g. sitting on a bus without anything but my imagination to while away (not wile, apparently[1]) the rolling minutes), the better lived my life feels. I think I remember more (or at least I am told I should) and I have more moments of quiet smiling to myself. I appreciate the people around me more and my situation: a great reduction in discontent.
So, hooray for the chilly autumn air that defined my youth, often coinciding easily with the start of new school years, precipitating the frozen, reclusive winters and echoed during the reversing spring, forgotten by summer. I am going to buy a pumpkin.
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