Winter Sleep

Well, the weather beavers blew it again! So far this morning by 2 degF. Right now my thermometer reads 19 degF and yes, I have calibrated it so don’t be pulling that climate denialist thing of measurement variation. I do so love winter and I do so love the math bogs who think they know but do not.

No gym this morning. Failure of the will or some such. Or maybe it was heeding the admonitions not to test the icy (?) roads. Not for lack of confidence in my own skills. I have them courtesy of graduate schule in Illinois, but because Ivory soap of Alibam doesn’t but still has confidence they can drive. Which they can;t. Especially pickup truck drivers who can’t drive through an empty car park without messing something up.

Speaking of messing up, I ran across an article [Link] about some work at a French U whose name is even worse than the ones the Germans stick on colleges that a thirty minute nap can reverse the ills of a night of poor sleep. Poor sleep. That’s winter sleep. Sometimes summer sleep. Winter sleep is characterized by being too cold or too hot, both sensations, but valid in this context, and being up every two hours to prowl about the house checking that the drips are still flowing and life has suddenly not become a horror of water and plumbers. (Water is just yuck, plumbers are not.)

It’s almost a parody of old age. The whole going to micturate every two hours and stumbling about in between. In this case it’s impossible to avoid micturation every other trip or so but that’s a derivative side line to the inspection of drip posts. Not to mention the stress of that bihourly emergence and the joy of returning to a bed that seems still warm but in moments takes on the aspects of a "polar bear" plunge.

I really do not like winter. Mostly, I suspect, because it doesn’t like me.