urgh. Why do I feel like such crap in the mornings? Is it the place in which I live, called Oregon, with its beautiful mold-scapes and perfect growing weather year-round? Is it the place in which I live called my body which is now close to 40 years old? (WHAT?!) Is it the place in which I live called My Mind, whatever the hell that is, which is by turns entrenched in queer beliefs and exalted by new ones? I don't know but it is thrice hard to pry myself from between covers and I look pretty rugged every morning.
Here is my routine, as of the onset of chilly weather. I nestle as long as possible, because I do not turn the heat on at night. Amazingly, this place stays tolerably warm (that being a relative term), and I do own quite a few blankets. But my nose says it is rather nippy out among no-covers. I burrow some more. Unless I have to go to work early.
If it is a very frosty night, I wipe this off the windows (they being single pane):
Then I rehydrate myself, since all the water I drank the previous day has just been condensing on the windows. Every morning a tall glass of water. And I turn the heater on, which squats inside the east wall, and it surprisingly quiet and efficient. I drape the now-wet towel (after wringing out excess water into the basin) over the clothes hamper which I place not too close but close enough in front of the cadet heater, and inside of 15 minutes, the towel is dry and my room is toasty and my arse-flesh is mostly not goosepimpled.
A couple more Jason heads:
(one of my flickrfriends says that is looks like a loaf of bread molded into the shape of a camel......how did he know??!)
yes, yes I know
now this last one I am particularly fond of, since I did not sketch it out in pencil prior to piddling around with sumi ink directly on the paper. One of my other flickrfriends, Z, remarked that the ink is unpredictable but in a good way. That is so true! I love that about ink (and am frustrated about that in ink....).
Time's near to riding out for work: I must bundle myself proportionate to the outside temperature which I am not sure has even reached above the freezing point. One would think the extra padding I've acquired after a half-season of cobbler and pie would help keep me warm. Funny how it doesn't work that way, eh?