Cold

I get up these days around 6 because I teach a class at 8 am. Most days this involves extravagant lies told in the semidarkness by my responsible self to my groggy self—promises of eggs and bacon and sausage, promises of naps taken in warm beds with my clothes still on, my shoes hastily deposited by the door upon arriving home from class. I rarely make good on these promises (I've been to Wendy's only once, and as yet the only naps have happened in my chair at my desk).

This morning I got up feeling cold. The average temperature here for the last week or so has been a single-digit number, often with a minus sign in front of it, and today was no slouch. I hobbled downstairs to a bowl of Cheerios, realized I should've checked into the bathroom first, came back up to grumble in front of my email while all my systems came online. Consciousness: check. Internal Clock: check. Sensitivity to Light: fading.

Senses of Humor, Self, and Responsibility: check, check, check.

Better Judgment: standing by.

Internal Combustion: nothing.

I'm not a morning person, which is why waking at 6 is requisite to teaching at 8. I have to plan in advance not to be grumpy if I know interaction with others is on the docket for the am. I leave myself a detailed plan of the first 2 hours of my day so that there isn't any dependance on a mind process of any kind; every morning I mark off the words "breakfast," "vitamin," and "prayer" without questioning the wisdom or the order. Despite all this crummy biology, however, I never worry about being warm. It's a given with me.

I'm one of those warm hands types—I sleep with my feet hanging off the end of the bed and the window cracked. I don't own a pair of gloves. When Kate came to pick me up the other day and I was wearing jeans and a puffy vest, she expressed her worry that I'd freeze walking home later. I showed her the odd-square foot of wool in my hand: "It's okay; I've got a hat."

But this morning I was cold, and I don't know why. I didn't warm up with the return of consciousness and I didn't warm up with the application of clothes. I waited in vain for the needle in the dash of Kate's Explorer to sidle over from C to H and the floor vents to begin blowing warm air over my feet. When we got to school I excitedly ran into my office expecting a familiar rush of snugness, but instead I found the room drafty. I taught. I napped. I was cold.

All day this went on. I wore my heavy coat indoors all day and never felt good. Is this how the rest of you feel all the time? Jeez.

I'm about to jump into bed with a giant pair of thick sweatpants on. I have two quilts and a bottle of water. I'm going to dream of true love.