[life] Some like it in the pot, three days old.

So, like many happy couples everywhere, Shawn and I have some points on which we are polar opposites. One of them happens to be body temperature, as I spend my days swathed in sweaters and two pairs of socks and sipping steaming cups of tea and cider, and he lounges around in jeans and a light shirt. This has led to some arguments about windows open or not, the density of bedclothes, and whether I am allowed to huddle up against his furnace-like back and breathe dryly in his ear all night.

It also leads to my wondering if the gods hate me, since my office is the coldest room in our house, by at least a few degrees, and there appears no way to remedy the situation. There have to be leaks in our air vents on the way here, cuz, baby, my fingers are nearly dropping off. It makes sewing and painting and playing WoW for hours very hard. I left a glass of milk in here for an hour once and when I got back it was still cold.

I am cold all damn winter. Some days it just seems terribly unfair.

Also, some woman called me a "stupid bitch" for committing the henious act of bringing her a roast chicken sandwich instead of a roast vegetable sandwich, which made me cry because I was already not having a good day and was extremely tired to boot. I hope she chokes on a rutabega and dies tasting the bitter, bitter irony.