It’s very cold in my room. It ususally gets so around fall and winter. The seasons are changing; next month is November. It’s a time for chrysanthemums.

I had dinner with an old friend last night. We were inseparable at one time. We traveled halfway around the world together, over oceans and up mountains once. Then he and I used to meet up at least once a week for lunch. Once a month. During the holidays. Last night was the first time I had talked to him in well over a year. We talked about things the way we always used to, sans any awkwardness. He and I have our stride. Or maybe we’re still the same people we were five years ago, just with 40 hours a week jobs and overtime. Huh. Depressing.

I’m cold.

I woke up to this today:

Yep. That’s my mom with a car ice scraper, scraping paint off the bathroom ceiling. The entire bathroom ceiling. With an ice scraper. I think that’s the one I keep in my truck, actually.

Weird.