It is 35 degrees out there – the there in question being anywhere beyond our doors. It was just a few days ago and opening any door for a second would transform the immediate inside area into a 35 degree chiller. Overstuffed chairs, afghans and fires were so comfy, having a window nearby made you so grateful for your indoor state. Cozy. An overwhelming amount of cozy.
And the frigid air outside – it was crisp and clean. Oh, I just remembered I remarked on an alien quality in it . . . eerie, I think I wrote. Well, it has to be very still for that and such a state isn’t all that common. Just let that eerie part slide to the back of your mind. Think cozy warmth out of the storm. I, myself, now am having trouble doing that because while I was remembering the still and eerie part, I chanced to think about “The Thing” and Kurt Russell and the waiting for freezing in the end of the movie.”
Oh great, now thoughts of “The Thing” – the one that scooted and slithered around, not James Arness’ portrayal of the first “Thing – have caused the slithering aspect to capture my imagination . . . and I am thinking of cold now slithering under the door. Is it possible icicles are ice snakes? Nah, that’s a stretch. It’s too visual. What’s scariest is the unseen – the cold snaking under door and at window sashes.
How can I do this to myself? Remarking about starting to miss the comforting coziness of warmth inside in the winter and wind up putting myself in the tension of a Hitchcock movie? Maybe it happened because it is 35 degrees and my stream of consciousness thawed. It is supposed to get close to 50 degrees in a few days; I’ll be awash in consciousness, drowning in it. What are you doing, AmeliaJake? Oh, I’m just here treading consciousness.