I'm dealing with a viral something or other which has me feeling rather Proustian at the moment, even as I have a long list of preparations for my Gordo, who is coming to Cold City for a visit on Valentine's day. IKEA boxes and contraptions lie around, waiting to be assembled, while I ponder life and stress out a bit about not feeling well. My apartment remains rather spartan, although I have been in residence in Cold City since it was, um, Hot Humid City in August. Either I will have the strength to get it together or Gordo and I will do it together. He will be here through the weekend, hooray! Cleaning the bathroom, bleh!
Aside from this petit miserablism, I took a refreshing stroll over one of our local lakes, which is now frozen solid. Cold City, aside from its nifty moniker, has been rather un-cold this winter. But we recently have had a spate of true winter chill, and everyone has been out on this glorious mid-winter's day, skiing, walking, enjoying the sunlight even though we've only been at 19F/-7C all day. Here that counts as almost warm, comparatively, although thank the Goddess we have been warmer most of the winter.
For a westerner like myself, or rather more particularly a Californian, snow and cold winters remain truly exotic, and the feel and sound of the snow crunching under my feet, especially on the surface of a vast frozen lake, pleases me in a way that is hard to describe, even as my face prepared to fall off due to the rather brisk breeze flowing across the tundra-like landscape. After my walk, I have repaired to my garret with cigarettes and Tab, and now ponder the meaning of IKEA boxes with pictogram instructions, and wonder if I should rather prep for class tomorrow instead of tackling a bookcase.
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