in my bones

it occurs to me that the cold is just in my bones. there is hardly any relief. ever. from the cold.

my hands are icicles. wearing gloves while reading doesnt even help anymore. im getting more creative in my efforts to get warm. i just filled a mug with boiling water and every few moments place my hands around it to try and thaw them.

it makes the reading a rather laborious endeavor.

i know it's much colder in other parts of the world. but on some level, cold is cold. it doesnt matter if it's 29 degrees or - 14. my house is never, ever warm (despite the atrocious heating bill). and so while i do my never ending reading, i am always cold.

if i could just do something about my hands i wouldn't complain so much. i can put layers and layers upon my body and deal. but my hands feel no relief.

the opportunities are ripe for invention and exploitation of graduate students in cold climates.

and because ive been speaking of bones. heres a good killers song: bones

dont you wanna come with me? dont you wanna feel my bones on your bones? it's only natural. dont you wanna swim with me? dont you wanna feel my skin on your skin? it's only natural.