cold feet

I tossed and turned last night. Not because of the ice shelves breaking off (though that's horrifying). Not because the world/politics/people seem to be totally fucked (the on-going atrocities of Darfur, Iraq, Afghanistan, Disney Land/World/Land, Rona "Who Gives a Crap About the Spotted Owl" Ambrose, etc.). Not because I am galloping toward death along with the rest of you. No, I tossed and turned because my feet got really cold and I couldn't quite wake up enough to DO something about it, like find a heat source, put on some socks (or hat), or have a quick hot shower.

I recall peering at my clock at 1:58 AM and thinking something vaguely along the lines of "There are arctic ice shelves where my feet once were. Perhaps they will cleave off and drift away and flood the city, and in the morning, I will wade to the bus stop on bloody knee-stumps."

WHO SAYS MOST PERSONAL BLOGS ARE FULL OF BANAL SHIT? WHO!? This is important stuff, folks.