Addicted to cold

In the old building whose ground floor is my apartment, there are many holes, cracks & crevices. The landlord sets the heat at the legal low limit of 55 degrees, so a chill usually pervades all the rooms. When the heat does manage to sigh a few waves of warm air, half of that is quickly lost through the holes, cracks & crevices. While these conditions seemed ridiculous, at first, I guess I eventually grew accustomed to jumping quickly into bed after undressing, pulling the thick blanket taut up to my chin. So accustomed, I must have grown, because now that warmer days have removed that bone-chill from the air, I find it difficult to sleep in such heigtened temperatures.

I guess I’m addicted to cold.

pictured: Tori Amos, packaging for “Winter”