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Why I am the way I am

Popcorn. Cinnamon-swirled bread, toasted. Peanut butter. Hot chocolate with about half a cup of half-n-half in it. Oh yeah. The perfect bedtime snack!

I am so glad I don't have an allergy to nuts. I *LOVE* peanut butter. I eat it by the spoonful. Jif is my favorite brand.

When I walked out to my car last night I could not believe how enigmatically cold it was. By the time I put my key in the door to let myself into the apartment building, my fingers had gone beyond numb and were starting to tingle painfully. The onset of frostbite.

But it was the cold itself that just left me awe-struck, more than how the cold made me feel. The neighborhood, the night sky, the air, the everything was so eerily still... as I walked to my car, and I had to walk even further last night due to the fact that I had to park my car so far away, it was then I noticed I was the only living, moving creature out there in that cold, cold night. But the morbidly cold stillness didn't really strike a chord in me until I was turning into my driveway and thought of stray cats and dogs -- there were none. Which is a good thing, I suppose; at least I was hoping the reason for that was because they all found a warm place to stay for the night. I hope.

As I steered my cold, sluggish car toward my garage, down the little dip in the driveway, I thought of Mr. Vander Haag (see story below). When the air temperature is -7 -- not the wind chill, the air temperature -- that is dangerous cold in these parts. Even locals get taken by surprise, year after year. It seems like very few people appreciate the preparation it takes to avoid getting hurt or even killed by this kind of cold. I thought about the folks at the Herkimer apartments. Do they keep up on the weather report now? Do they take even more precautions when the temperature is so cold? Did they learn their lesson? I sincerely hope so. It was very humbling to be able to let myself into my own apartment building last night. I don't think I'll ever forget about what happened to Jerry Vander Haag.

Y'know, the little mood icon at the bottom of this entry is so accurate a depiction of how tired I am tonight it's funny. It's PMS tired that besieges my weary bones. There is no such thing as "too much" sleep at this time of the month. I should strive for that tonight. I really, really should.

You know what I would love to do tomorrow? I would love to get up at sunrise, which nowadays is right around 8am. I am so stinkin happy that the days are getting longer again, I feel like I want to be up to enjoy every spare minute of light that I can. I am so impatient for the magical spring month, March. It is, by far, the most enchanting month of the year. Even though, year after miserable year, it is the source of all my heartbreaks ... I am helpless once it casts it's spell on me. St. Patrick's Day reels me in, followed closely by the vernal equinox, followed by the magic of Easter... ahhhh, the magic of new beginnings as symbolized by the month of March is not lost on me at all. I feel it very keenly; I am charmed by it's power. I would never take a vacation week during that month because I'm quite sure if I left, I would never return. Or if I did return, I'd have to be taken to a mental hospital right afterwards because of the shock of returning to the real world would prove to be too much for my heart.

In the meantime, I'll just brew another cup of hot chocolate and wait patiently for the turn of the calendar that lets me know green things will soon be sprouting on the trees again...

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