If I didn't know better (and maybe I don't), I'd swear it was snowing out there. Because, in my cave it's feeling a tad more comfortable, womb-like than any other ordinary day. Even though the streets are bare, and I know this because when I came home tonight, I was paying attention to the way the soles of my converse sneakers sounded on the pavement. Digression. Even though the streets are bare, it feels like I'm in a haven while a storm rages outside. Insulating me from the rest of the world.

Christmas is nearly here and shortly afterwards, I'm to expect a visit from a Northern friend. One I promised to snuggle under toasty warm blankets, watching scary B movies with for a few days. He's even promised to cook, and to perhaps teach me how to bake. Sounds nice, huh? Tell that to my head. It's holding my excitement hostage.

Lime green post-it notes have taken over my work area. It looks like my laptop and work surface has hives. Green ones. Too many notes to myself, I suppose. Those projects that burned so brightly in my mind, dwindled now to barely smoking ashes of creativity. Forgotten on a post-it.

I feel the need for some insulation, though. It's addictive.