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The Newest Member Of The Family

Dreaming of a proper white Christmas at Les Pierres usually does not transcend its wishful thinking fase, because it involves all mismatched meteorological gods working together to concoct this epic epitome and though not an impossible mission a priori, there’s usually one or two party poopers, with early arrivals in november spoiling the surprise, or latecomers causing delay all the way into Spring. For now, to make this fairytale perfect I would settle for an end to all freezing wetness.

I have always asserted with adequate pride that the cold doesn’t bother me much, to a considerable degree attributed to the hypothyroidism I’ve been suffering from for years and years, since thyroid hormones actually also regulate body temperature, in collaboration with the nervous system, and their deficiency accounted for the thrifty advantage of usually not noticing any drops in degrees, but those auspicious days have been long gone by becoming well-adjusted with medications, stirring up completely different dreams for the wintery season.
In recent conversations with Ivory, a kindred spirit when it comes to torturous temperatures, already arming himself with gloves and scarves inside the house in October, I cautiously noticed a subtle shift in our willingness to consider moving southwards for a while, much further south for real comfort, regardless of the logistical challenges comprised.

The subjectivity of perceiving coldness, once distinguished it overrides everything else, has this confusing effect I can’t really explain other than by its overwhelming pretense, whether I’m hungry, sleepy, down or cheerful, I feel cold. I now also passed on this dubious degradation to the newest member of the family, who refuses to strain from the house further than necessary to go potty, under loud protest as if we’re to blame for his maltreatment, immediately running back inside, where the stone floor’s too cold and the sofa enfolds, however prohibited, a preeminent alternative.

But beauty often is pain and might be the only sensible antidote to our wretchedness, I realized this morning, and nature is going to make it look Christmassy no matter what, ignoring our pettifogging.


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