I sit in the office loft of our house typing on our big reliable laptop. The one we affectionately call the “Tank”. I know it must be warm in here because the air conditioning is running still at almost 10 pm. It was hot all day. So hot that K didn’t want to play outside anymore.
She wanted to escape into the air conditioned coolness and draw picture after picture in the dark house while we waited for Dr. Normal to get home with Chinese take out.
We had Chinese take out because it was also too hot to cook.
I know all this, but I still sit upstairs in jeans and a sweater my body supported by the chair I sit in and the desk I lean on. I’m not cold, even without the sweater when I had on a tank top I wasn’t cold… but I want to be warm.
I want to be submerged in warm bubbling water or to pull on leather gloves and a welcoming wool coat. I want to curl up under layers of blankets and feel the cool sheets warm to my skin.
The weather may have it’s way with me during the day, but every night it’s the same.
Once the sun goes down I long for the comfort of my big bed, my soft blankets and the warmth of my husband’s skin.