Seven degrees followed by "of separation" rings familiarity to me - not Fahrenheit. Cold creeps in everywhere. Rolled towels nestle against the doors, protecting against the icy wind. The blinds, raised since our arrival in July, now insulate the windows. Prince Procrastinator and I survey the house shutting closet doors tight and closing off the laundry room and pantry area leading the garage. The heating unit churns non-stop, yet the inside temperature rests at a chilly 62 degrees.
After dinner and jammies, the house is unusually quiet. At storytime, we do not see Prince Boots. PP sets off to locate him and returns amused. PB lies in bed covered with 2 blankets pulled up to his nose. He points to the ceiling and asks for "lights out". Princess Ela climbs into her bed and under sheet, blanket, duvet, and bedspread rather than her usual blankie on the floor.
I huddle under a blanket with the laptop's exhaust providing a bit of warmth. I plan attacks against the cold creeping in from outside, but any success is trumped by our featherweight heater who begins to emit cold air.
I love the winter here, but tonight I long for the 77 degrees of Mimi and Oompah's Montego Bay.
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