hibernation

In college one time, T.'s mom called her on a Friday night, and said, "Oh! I was expecting to get the machine! I was going to say, 'I knew you wouldn't be in your room, because it's Friday night, and only nerds are home on a Friday night.' But you are home..."

I feel this way most Friday nights: I want to be a nerd. I could go out, there are possibilities, but after a whole week of telling myself that I just have to get to Friday and then I can rest, I want to rest. I sometimes go to bed earlier on Friday than on any other day.

This is particularly easy to do now that my apartment is cozy and it's cold outside. I put white lights up around my window a few days ago, for the holidays, and now they glow. My couch has no arms, but now that I've moved it perpendicular to the wall, I can lean against the wall and stretch out my legs. I wrap myself in my gabi.

As it gets colder outside, I want to hibernate. My happy light keeps me from being sad, so I'm just perfectly contentedly cucooned in my red and orange den. The world can come to me, if it wants something. I will be the one curled up with a book.