It is not raining. The weather is not raining anymore. All day long today it came down, cold and steady a sober Eskimo*. I woke up earlier than I would have liked, which is to say I woke up at all. This is all the fault of that defunct hurricane, an awareness of which I’d managed to avoid until sometime this afternoon. The weather today was not conducive to any kind of behavior not directly related to hibernation. Humans cannot hibernate, and caves are not feasible housing options in today’s pre-post-apocalyptic world, so the best we can do is pile as many layers of heat-retaining fabric atop mattresses as we can, put butter on everything, and hope for the best. So far this has proven to be at least semi-effective. It is 48 degrees outside, and since we refuse to turn the heat on (I would explain this, as it probably deserves to be clarified, but I won't) the temperature inside The Place can't be far from the outside world's.
In non-weather news my grandma sent me a tupperware container full of cookies in a birthday-related gesture. For the first time since this became a practice of hers (the onset of college) they arrived intact and softer than glass. Progress across the board I guess.
*this turn of phrase relies on the little known unstable Eskimo archetype, an archetype that has been proven false time and time again in many popular films, books, and Broadway musicals.
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