Sitting at my desk, I realize I'm cold.
I sit at my desk and think I'm cold.
Do I get a sweater?
I'd hate to rearrange and lose my place on the page.
Do I turn up the heat?
(I can't, the new kitchen has no baseboard heaters.)
Do I leave my desk and move to a warmer spot?
No. Heavens, no.
Can't write there.
The rain beats against the window air conditioner with pattering droplets.
It's been languishing there all winter.
It's early spring, now.
The night-cold air comes through and makes me shiver.
Do I care?
But I'm still cold.