First Person Musings on College Life in Moscow Idaho

Laying Semi Conscious in a pool of lukewarm water Complaining about winter is the mark of a whiner. Offenders should be punished with a red “W” pinned to their jackets I used to say. Things are different now confronted with the choice of expensive electric heat or sweaters I already own the choice is obvious. But now my home is not a place to look forward to at the completion of the school day. I arrive home under the stars and hold an evening mass at the hot water heater begging for relief from the unyielding chill. “don't fail me now” I say and with cautious optimism start the faucet. Halfway full and it becomes obvious that my pleas fell on the deaf ear of a large metal cylinder. But it's better than nothing so I forget the chill of the night, the work of the day, and let my eyelids slowly swing shut. Admitting Defeat Through Fashion In that universal game of match play golf, the cosmos made the green in regulation. I'm still flailing away in the woods spraying shots all over the place and eventually concede the hole. Relegated to defeat, former dreams of conquest have been replaced by dreams of comfort. That is why I wear sweatpants as a gray, cotton badge of failure. I now live my life in a state of quiet comfort, my only worry that my pants are not erection proof. Dinner through the Window Through my kitchen window this morning I see a white sheet lain upon the hills with hearty stalks of wheat puncturing through, the telltale sign of a light, early snow. Barely visible among their recently fallen camouflage is a flock of sheep. Driven mad by hunger I wrap myself against the cold in the furs from previous feasts, grab my spear and venture forth to forcibly acquire the sustenance I need.