lxxxiv

"Canadians are cold so much of the time that many of them leave instructions to be cremated."

-Cynthia Nelms

            It is 4:20 in the morning and it is now October 7^th. I don’t know how this happened. But the frigid air of the study carrel across the hall from my room has frozen me in this position on this poorly-supported, maybe-vinyl couch. I haven’t moved for the past two hours, silently staring at the black screensaver in front of me, warming my hands on the mechanical whirrings of my laptop’s internal machinings.

            And I have yet to start studying.