Midnight, and the house is finally warm enough to wash my hair. The critical issue is wether or not it freezes before it dries. Transpiration. Same as it ever was. If you lived in a place cold enough you might not wash your hair until spring, fuck convention. There are real concerns, dying of frozen head. Everyone at the museum is hurting, Pegi and Tammy both fell in the ice. The sky is falling. The power of not knowing. I'm better prepared for the worst because I expect it, the cause of various effects. I have coffee and cream, sausage and eggs, bread and butter, some dried beans. How bad can it really be? Unsung swan song.
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