I keep my head covered with the blankets as long as I can. I left the heat off last night so it’s cold in my room. Leaving the blankets would be painful. The temperature and the light. I manage, briefly, so I can take a shower. I don’t really need one, but it’s darker in the bathroom and the water will warm me up. After the hot water runs out, I crawl back in to bed. It takes me a few more minutes until I’m ready to get dressed and leave. The weather is nice. The gray clouds have receded back to the west. I don’t need to put my gloves on. The bus is at the light as I approach the intersection. I barely make it. I am still late for work. I walk in, passing my coworkers, and look for my cup. I need some tea. No one notices or mentions my tardiness. There are holiday decorations surrounding us. The garland and lights look institutional, like a bad school play. I wonder why, in this age of cultural sensitivity, a work place would spend money on holiday decorations of any kind. The shallow imagery of tawdry events falls flat. Like my bad prose, I suppose.