First published June 5th, 2008
The sheets crumple more in winter, I feel.
Our bodies sweat as they adjust to the heavier blankets. Sleep may not be as agitated as it is in the Summer, but it is as least as disturbed. Instead of the heat, one of us is invariably suffering from some sort of cough or ailment. Night vigils increase; as does early morning malaise. The flannelette sheets look limp on the mattress. They have been working hard to keep us comfortable.
The blinds are opened, yet the windows remain framed by darkness well into the morning, long after the children are awake. The fogs have set in; causing chaos at the airports and the eerie fugue passes all over the city, out to our limits…
…The heating rushes through the vents in the floor with the sonic whoosh! I’ve never really learned to ignore. It is the sound of our Winter. A sound which, at some point, I fear, will send me slightly batty.
