The cold continues, as does my pursuit of things that will help me beat it. A distinct lack of warm and willing bodies in my bed at night leaves me feeling somewhat defeated, as I am only capable of producing so much heat. The shared power of two people under one cover leads to an exhilarating increase in temperature that I really cannot overstate at this point.
Alas, I sleep alone. By the by, this is not meant to be scandalous – I greatly enjoy sharing my bed with people even when, and sometimes even especially when, there is no sexual connotation involved. One of my favorite people to sleep with is an old friend who happens to share similar nighttime ritual to me: reading and early lights out.
Continuing with the “Waaa… I’m cold and alone” theme though, I’ve been looking for alternative solutions to help me warm up. In the mornings, a mug of tea helps to ratchet up my body temperature, but it does not last very long.
Last night, however, I remembered something. It happened when I was offered a glass of wine by my father before dinner. I normally refuse on school nights. However, last night, I was taken back in time to a moment last summer, in Brooklyn, New York. I was standing at the bottom of the steps, having just come in from having a drink with a good friend. A glass of wine, it so happens. I was talking to my sweetheart, saying hello. We held hands and he looked at me and asked, “Did you have wine tonight?” I told him I had, and how did he guess? “Your hands are warm. They’re always warm after you drink wine.”
I should probably explain that I have poor circulation and that noticeably warm hands are abnormal for me, even in the middle of summer.
This is what I thought of last night when my dad asked if I would have a glass of red. I accepted, hoping the effect would be similar, even if I was not greeting a loved one. It was! Unfortunately, it means I have to drink wine every night if I want warm hands. Or wear gloves. Wine is more fun.
Tonight I had two glasses. I feel justified because I have a long day at work tomorrow.
I am pleased to know that I can be warm at night on my own. It’s funny that I learned it at a time when I was definitely not lonely.
It doesn’t mean I don’t still wish for the sober addition of another person. Or a heavier blanket at the very least.