You know what I like? The sun. The sun on a cold day, like today, through a window, like the one I’m sitting next to. The sun, all yellow and warm and low in the sky but still too bright to look at, thanks to the tilt of the earth this time of year. When I’m brave or foolish, I look at the sun just long enough to see the disc of it, beyond the brilliant flare, but usually I just close my eyes and let its rays hit my face and I enjoy the warmth. I hope it’s sunny where you are. I hope you have a window.

I’m a big fan of warmth. The warmth in bed right after I wake up is especially good, so good that sometimes the warmth is an adhesive that makes it nearly impossible to get up. When someone helps to generate the warmth, that’s even better, and when we’re bound up as a single thermic unit, all notched together and limbs aligned or entwined, living the bliss of spooners: that’s best of all. Sometimes I’m surprised anyone ever gets anything done, when a day can start that way.

(Are you waiting for this to turn sarcastic or surreal? It’s not gonna happen.)