During Davis’s bone-chilling grey winters, I often murmur mournfully about how cold I am and how I can barely move my fingers. I end up curled in a ball as I work at the computer, wearing fingerless gloves and drinking hot black tea. But do you know what? Despite it all, I’m not the wimpiest one in the house when it comes to cold. I now have concrete evidence of this fact.
On a mid-chill day when I was comfortably strolling around in only one fluffy jacket, I noticed a strange lump under my bedcovers. What on earth could that be? I knew I’d made my bed that morning, and yet this strange formation, similar to a gopher-mound, had appeared.
I investigated further, peering into the mouth of the blanket-cave…
I may get chilly, but at least I sally forth from under the covers every single day. In future, I shall cite this fact as evidence of my hardiness, and perhaps I shall never feel silly about being cold, ever again.