Contentedness Is Warm Oatmeal

I spent this morning's breakfast wearing comfortable pajamas and eating hot oatmeal. I am now in an excellent mood.

I don't tend to make much use of my heat. I can get away with this because the windows are good quality and trap a lot of heat. Also, I wear clothing in layers and have many blankets around. Currently, the outdoor temperature is about 46, and the indoor is right at about 61.

I keep my "domain" this chilly to save money and energy. Many days, I don't spend a great deal of time here. I used to switch off the heater, but then I'd have trouble remembering to turn it on when it's subzero. As a compromise, I set the thermostat as low as it can go (59 degrees) and leave it there.

For the most part, my body is excellent at maintaining its temperature. I can be pleasantly warm in most climates. But to show me that nothing is for certain, my body also very rarely gets "cold flashes" where it isn't possible for me to get warm enough. Perhaps this is some sort of balance for menopausal women everywhere. When I'm seized with this chill, I'm unable to warm myself, no matter how many blankets I'm under, clothes I'm wearing, or people I'm snuggling with.

What's also strange is that it's one of the few times in my life when I feel small. Not that I'm small from huddling for warmth (though that also happens), but when I'm cold, I just feel like there's less of me. I feel thin, like the wind passes right through me, and I feel that wind has blown away most of me, like sand from a castle. It's rather unnerving, adding psychophysical strangeness to an already-agitated body.

All this describing is making me cold! Time for a hot shower, preceding the final opera performance.