Heatless of the weather

My mood improves with each passing day and each falling degree.  That's the basic "idle" level, for those of you playing the home game.  Separate from that is a strange melancholy that I also find satisfying.  There's something comforting about the melancholy, as though it's a stranger whose presence I feel inexplicably calmed by.

I still haven't switched on my heat.  Eventually, I'll prepare for it by setting the thermostat somewhere at the contractually obligated low temperature as specified in the Homeowner's Association agreement: 55 degrees.

Until then, I rejoice and revel in the open windows as the temperature dips into the thirties at night and the morning air is sharp in my lungs.

Yes, that makes me weird.  It's the balance benefit of having a body that runs at a high temperature all year.  While I flounder in 89 degree heat, I also embrace the lower temperatures as my comfort zone.

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