I Know A Girl Who Should Never Be Alone...

I'm cold. This isn't a Boston/New York get warm with your friends in a pub by the fire because, fuck, but it's freezing outside type of cold. This is a San Diego, place where it should be warm and probably you'd be wearing a thicker coat at this temperature anywhere else, but you're here and goddammit you're not about to, type of cold. That cold. This is a cold that sticks to the tip of my nose and clings around my ankles. It's a cold that worms its way in to a place where the San Diegan gas heater, or even that good, New York City pub fireplace can not warm. This is the cold of inquietude, of erosion of happiness.

I hate this cold. Hate. Search this blog and see how many times you find that word. Not many, I'd venture, but there you have it. I'm giving this cold a few more weeks and if it's still hanging around refusing to warm up, I'm going back to bed by myself, where it's warm and I know the lay of the land.