flicker on


It is endlessly bleak and dreary here so I am lighting every candle in my apartment and reading about Hygge, watching Christmas movies and knitting scarves and eating extra-dark pretzels dipped in mascarpone cheese. In December the cold makes me feel old fashioned, like someone who darns socks or has a root cellar, so I wrapped and sent out a bunch of Christmas packages full of bits and bobs from my overstuffed stationery drawer and made a bunch of dinners from stuff already in the fridge. It’s nice, this preparing kind of feeling. The notion that that something is on its way.