Declaration Acclimation: Project Slither

I know I haven't written in a while, but I just couldn't figure out what to write about. Not much new has happened other than I have a job now which is causing my beer intake to increase exponentially. That's another story though. Now, the cold weather in Oregon is setting in, and I'm looking at it from one angle: acclimation for Alaska. In case you didn't catch it in a previous post, I'm living in my parents' basement. The heating unit for our house is on the ground floor, and if I learned anything from science class, it's that heat rises. Long story short: my room is never graced with a square inch of warmth or that sweet smell of hot air moving through dusty vents.

I've been calling my room the "Batcave" for two reasons: 1. it allows me to escape from my parents, and 2. it just sounds cool. Now, I can look at it in a new light. I'd say I was hibernating down here, but that doesn't seem right since it's freezing down there. So, I'm calling it hyper-acclimation. As many people have been so kind to point out to me, it's going to be COLD in Alaska, freezing actually. Who knew? Thank you so much for bestowing that knowledge on me, by the way. So, now you can all rest in silence knowing that your dear Natty is practicing for that "cold weather" you speak of, thanks to my basement bedroom. (Not to mention the 2 years living in South Africa in a cinder block house with no central heat and leaky windows.)

My parents have supplied me with a space heater for my bedroom, but I've decided not to use it. Space heaters are for the weak. I still sleep with the window open every other night, partially because I like the sound of the perpetual rain, but mostly because I seeing your breath in the morning is good for you. Better than smelling it anyway. I never wear socks, so my feet are quickly becoming used to being numb. And most importantly, I'm mastering the art of the slither.

Yes, the slither. You know that moment in the early morning, when it's still dark outside, and you really have to pee, but you don't want to get out of bed because you've spent all night creating that perfect cocoon? Well, I've discovered that as long as you slither out from under the blankets quickly enough and run (with squinted eyes, of course, so it's easier to fall back to sleep) to the bathroom, and then slither back under the blankets in exactly the correct way, then the warmth stays exactly where you left it. Also, the cocoon feels even better after a quick dash down the cold, dark hallway. And that, that is how I'm acclimating myself to Alaska. I hope your minds are now and forever set at ease.