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Last night was incredible. This is, absolutely, by far, my favorite time of the year, between Labor Day and Christmas. I opened the window in my room and it got cold. I wore sweatpants, which is one of my favorite things to do, possibly only because it means it is cold outside when I am wearing them.

I got out my new earphones (courtesy of LU, on loan) and went out to my driveway about midnight and laid flat on the asphalt. I looked at the stars and shivered. I went back in a put on socks because my feet were freezing. It was bliss. I listened to David Crowder, Ryan Adams, and Jimmy Eat World and was wholly content in a perfect universe.

How does it get better? (Someone to share it with?)

When it was finally time to go in, I wrote something I considered to be art and I was satisfied in it.

I love the cold.

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