Cold December Morning

I first woke up this morning before dawn as I heard a weird noise in the neighborhood. Oh, it's Thursday. Recycling truck. Meh. But then I noticed something-- that's all I heard. My brain quickly started processing things as it forced me to physically sit up and take note of my surroundings.

Dead to the world Erich next to me. Check.

Four of five cats sprawled or curled up in various positions on the bed with us. Check.

Early morning radiator sounds? (crickets)

Ahem-- early morning radiator sounds? (still crickets)

Shit. Okay-- did we run out of water in the boiler? Gotta get up, go downstairs to the basement. Fuck it's cold. What time is it, anyway?

Time? Alarm clock's blank.

So's the cable box clock. Oh. Power's out. And it's really fucking cold.

At this point, my body's starting to wake up, so I need to use the bathroom. I practically hop back to the bedroom afterward because the wood floor is painful to my bare feet. Colley, who normally accompanies me anywhere I go, is still the lump of fur on the bed where I left him. The bed, at least, is relatively warm. Especially with a 6'3" tall human male (translation=furnace) and three other cats.

I scoot back into bed and nudge Erich. "Hon, where's your Blackberry?"

"s'downstairs, why?"

"The power's out. You need to set your alarm."

"mmmnnnfffff."

He gets up. He gets the Blackberry. He sets it. We mumble a couple more things. He falls back asleep. I try to, but the residual morning cough from last week's cold decides to stir up. I grab a cough drop, curl my body around Colley, and start dozing.

"Errrrk..." *sounds of things whirring as the furnace kicks in two floors below*

'sabout time

fall back asleep...


It was a slow morning, needless to say. We finally left the house around 8:45. I got to work at 10:30.

Honestly? I'd rather have stayed in bed. Now I'm practically attached to my space heater because I swear it's only 50 degrees in here. Maybe.

I think the problem is that I'm in denial of the whole winter thing right now. I normally enjoy the cold weather. This year, it seems to have hit way too fast, even ignoring the reality that it's December in New England. Despite the cold at night, I refuse to wear long PJ pants to bed. So by around 4 a.m., once Colley has taken over the middle of the bed and the comforter is all skewed so that my ass is barely covered by only the thin bedsheet, I'm freezing. (if only it implied that my ass would actually fall off, I probably wouldn't mind so much!)

How many more months of this weather before I can bitch about heat and humidity again? ;)