My nose is cold. I am sitting in my livingroom, and my nose is cold.

Even my fingers aren't feeling the cold like my nose is, likely because I've been using them to type. It's hard to keep your nose warm, unless you remember to scrinch it up, which is too hard to do when it's cold. This has happened before, this cold nose while sitting in our livingroom with the high ceiling. It's November. The month will be followed by December and January and February, all prime cold nose months.

I don't understand why high ceilings are desirable in the Upper Midwest of the U.S. They are all over the place. You see them as you drive by neighborhoods, bigger houses with higher ceilings even than we have. There are homes with entry ways that extend two storeys in height. Burr.... welcome to the icy home... do you think you can come up with $5 on entry so that maybe the electric bill can be paid. Either that or people have gotten used to going to bed early, before the thermostat kicks down and the real cold starts to seep in for the night. I myself am used to sleeping under four blankets and wearing two layers over my nightshirt despite the fact that our ceilings in the bedroom are normal height.

But I digress...

It's November. The wind is howling, and dustings of snow furrow along the street. On our neighbor's deck across the back, there is a makeshift sandbox made out of a child's plastic swimming pool. As of a few days ago there were dustings of sand spread across the deck, like a testament to the past summer. For the longest time too, a yellow towel had remained draped over the back of a deck chair, as if our neighborhood sat atop a seaside sunny clime. Every morning when I look down out of the kitchen window, I keep expecting the sandbox to have been put away, because when that happens, then winter will really be here.