rejectomorph: (gericault_raft of the medusa 1)
[personal profile] rejectomorph
All night, there is stillness and cold. There is no sound of insects. I hear occasional cars passing, nearby or far away, and I hear the sound of leaves letting go of their twigs and falling, and I hear the intermittent rumble of the furnace, but everything else is silent. There is not even an owl hooting, nor any dog barking. I miss the crickets.

When I go indoors, the heating soon makes me dopey. I have the feeling that I'm inhaling vast amounts of carbon monoxide. The furnace was serviced a few months ago, but my sluggish brain tells me that the heated air still isn't good for me. The cat apparently doesn't get the same message. She has been sleeping in her favorite winter night spot, directly atop one of the living room vents. Kitties.

Living with the enervating effect of the furnace is one of the bad things about the early onset of cold weather. And I guess the bad thing about having a computer that isn't hypersensitive to heat is that I now leave the vent open most of these cold nights, so I can remain comfortably warm. That, of course, was also one of the good things about getting the new computer. Sluggo's hatred of even the slightest warmth forced me to remain miserable, but clear-headed, last winter. Inside every silver lining, there's a big, dark cloud. Wait- I like big, dark clouds. Oh, never mind.

OK, I'm hitting all the wrong keys now. That's not good on a computer. Time to go out and breathe again. Hey, there's the sound of that bird (or giant insect) hitting the window! Dawn approaches!
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