The Arctic Winter

My house is well, let's just say cold. When I say cold I do not mean a light breeze, or circulating coolness from a ceiling fan. Oh no. When I say cold I mean ARCTIC WINTER. Some of you may think that's a bit of an exaggeration but when you sit on that cold porcelain toilet seat and it makes you want to jump right back off as if you stepped on a caterpillar then you know what I mean. Even as I type this I shiver ever so slightly waiting for the space heater to fill the room with warmth. But warmth can't come soon enough. Sometimes sitting in this Frigidaire of a house makes me think of people who try to climb Mount Everest and sleep in snow covered caves and like it. I mean I love camping and hiking and all but that puts it on a whole new level. At least I can't get frostbite in here. I wonder if those adventurous hikers ever hear wolves howling at night and owls hooting in the distant trees. I think I have my version of the howling wolves right next door. The lady who lives next door, I've never met, but I've heard tales of her calling her cats into her house at night with a singsong nature and undistinguishable words. It happens late at night and my roommates find it quite funny. Well tonight I heard it - wow. I don't think I've ever heard anything like it before. It was as if in a high pitched voice she was singing some kind of cat opera in a language I couldn't understand. Maybe it was a cat language. Funny thing is it kind of put me at ease. I guess when you sit alone in your cold living room it kind of feels nice that there is a crazy cat lady living next door. I think she successfully called in her cats because I can't hear her anymore. The neighborhood is going to bed and though my fingers and toes are still cold I still wonder about the hikers on Mount Everest. I wonder if in that cave they just wished they would have brought a snuggie along with them.