That Time

I love winter.

Love it.

I know I've expressed my feelings about certain seasons and holidays, but for my newer readers who haven't had the boredom to peruse my archives, let me get you caught up: I am overly enthusiastic about most holidays. I don't like summer heat. I am just as likely to be found sledding as the city's 10-year-old population. The first snow will have me outside playing, regardless of what my feet are wearing. Winter tends to align with so many other of my favorite things: tea, coffee, hot chocolate, cozy blankets, nighttime, warm woolen mittens ...

The second it got cold enough for frost, I started thinking about Christmas (which worked out well this year -- so did ShopKo) ... Blame it on the fact that I have very little else to do with my time, or the fact that for the first time ever I have an apartment of my own to decorate (that I will actually be IN directly before and after Christmas). This means I've actually been Christmas shopping -- or trying to be Christmas shopping -- for almost a month now.

Alas, this has also tested my one true compulsion, and thus my reading list just keeps getting longer ... or higher ... whatever.

I should know better. No more bookstores. Bad move.

On the bright side, winter is a much better time to have a long reading list. I mean, despite my enthusiasm for snow, I can only convince myself to spend so much time outside when it gets dark so soon -- my practical, trying-to-stay-safe side speaks up a bit louder. (Even if I'm in the middle of Suburbia.)

On that note, I think I'm going to hit the road. I might have more time for reading, but I actually get to have dinner with a couple that live about thirty seconds away -- yay for being social!

Have a good night, folks.

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