I don't think well, or do anything well, for that matter, when I'm cold. And I've been cold all week. It's just plain nasty out, and it makes me want to curl up in bed and not emerge until spring. Then again, being sick doesn't help. I have an ugly cold courtesy of my roommate who brought it home from Saskatchewan and gave it to both Cam and I, and thus we sound like frogs. Or people imitating frogs. Or frogs imitating people. Either way, it feels like nap time.

On another unrelated note, while I am generally fond of Blake, the Book of Urizen is really not impressing me. Or maybe I just need less dark poetry to go with this uberdark weather.