I have to stop pretending that I like winter. I have to stop pretending I don’t hate it just like everybody else does, that it doesn’t make me as sad and exhausted as it makes everyone, that all the obvious and general shittiness of winter doesn’t apply to me. But every year I think it will be something else; every year I wipe my memory of the past winters. I don’t just think it will be fine, that maybe it will be ok this time. I look forward to it, I think - every year! every time! I do this! - that it’s going to be the best thing, a long hibernation, something to crave, something to miss when its gone. Jezebel published a wonderful piece earlier this year in praise of
radiators
radiators
radiators
I have to stop pretending that I like winter. I have to stop pretending I don’t hate it just like everybody else does, that it doesn’t make me as sad and exhausted as it makes everyone, that all the obvious and general shittiness of winter doesn’t apply to me. But every year I think it will be something else; every year I wipe my memory of the past winters. I don’t just think it will be fine, that maybe it will be ok this time. I look forward to it, I think - every year! every time! I do this! - that it’s going to be the best thing, a long hibernation, something to crave, something to miss when its gone. Jezebel published a wonderful piece earlier this year in praise of