It’s 49 out.
So the heat is on.
I wear a blanket… I’ve got lots of blankets.
But none of the fucking things is Goldilocks JUST RIGHT.
Some too light.
Some too heavy.
Some too thick and warm.
Some have bad memories associated with them, but I can’t bring myself to donate them or give them away or throw them out.
So, I put on a thick warm blanket, and I’m too hot.
I turn on the fan, and it’s now blowing too hard on my face.
I’m cold. I’m hot. I’m tired.
I curl in a ball and cry.