fall[ing] rain.

 

And out they come.

The slippers all throughout my room start to peek out of their hiding places. Some pairs linger on the carpet of my bedroom floor more than others- I like to pick favorites. Matched with a large fleece blanket, they make my miserably cold body feel somewhat more comfortable.
And a flip of the switch.
As the temperature falls, it becomes clear that leaving my window open only makes life in the basement  more miserable. With a flip of the switch, I can get an artificial fire burning to keep my limbs toasty warm. I will attempt to read a book as I lounge on the cuddle bag, extremely to the fireplace. I always end up choosing to fall asleep instead.
And the steam rises.
It is an obvious fact that hot chocolate taste better made with warm milk rather than boiled water. The creamy chocolate is an amazing sensation as you feel it running through your body from the minute you swallow it. Drinking the hot chocolate on your porch or by a window makes it taste extra spectacular- it doesn't really, but yet it really does make it seem like it tastes better.
And they turn the color blue.
The gloves go on, sleeves pulled down, and hands stuffed in my pockets. My hands loose their fleshy color and begin to turn into ice cold rocks. Like vampires' hands, but we aren't going there. The cold disables me from writing legibly for the next hour or so. It causes my hands to swell up to the point where it looks like a plastic glove filled with air, ready to burst any minute.


And now I am ready for fall.