Dear friends,
I write today from the confines of my presently tropical bedchamber. I'm afraid I did not sleep well last night thanks to my moist circumstances. I am the kind of guy--were you to ever sleep with me--who likes a light frost on the bureau before bedtime. I'm not a particular fan of cold, but it casts into sharper relief the warmth around me, preserved as it is by the series of buffers (e.g., blankets, comforters, "human shields," etc.) I employ for that purpose. It is the bane of my closest associate and business partner, whose circulation is better suited to the surface of the sun--or shall we say several centigrade greater than what I now endure.
1 comment:
there's a reason the place was called Ice Station Zebra
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