I'm here in my warm, tiny kitchen, sitting at the table next to the heat vent. The little pink-shaded light is glowing on the wide windowsill, next to the pepper plant, the small jade, and a couple of Christmas cards. Bottles of scotch are lined up at the end of the sill, awaiting more strenuous days. Behind me, on the stove, the milk is cooling for this week's yogurt. It's snowing.
My comp textbook is beside me, closed.
I'll work on my syllabus soon, I promise.
But right now, I think I'll just enjoy this.