So when I took to doing National Novel Writing Month and got it done, my bigger hope was that I would start a daily writing practice, which I have. Since November 1, I have written for an hour or more each day, save for one day near Christmas when I was laid low with a cold.
To accommodate this, I have been rising early, and going up to my office, a quirky, unheated space at the top of the house. It’s usually right around 5:45 am. I open the door at the second floor level, and I can feel the heat of the house (set to 62 degrees at that hour) flood right up the attic stairs. I follow the heat up, and turn on a space heater. By the time I’ve showered, made coffee, and had my breakfast, maybe 15 or 20 minutes has passed. The room is usually passably warm.
With the recent cold weather, I have taken to putting on a blazer, and then my overcoat, long and wool. When I settle down at the computer, I have been OK. Today, though, was an especially cold morning, and even though I was up later because I am on a brief vacation today, it was uncomfortably cold. For the first time since the winter began, I looked at my thermometer and you can see the result.