My wife Karen is once again outside around with her things. I cringe when I see Karen resting on the back of the truck, flying those things. It’s not that I do not care for that she has such a activity, after all, she is not able to move easily. Having an activity that she enjoys is important for her issues. I hang in my office, getting my toil done, and I watch my Karen. I know that she is going to come indoors, cold too, and in pain. I also know that it will be genuinely terrible because she hates playing with the controls when she is bound by her coat. She will come inside and put her cold holds onto my sizzling skin, hoping to get heated. I just request that she stands by an air duct or turns up the temperature control. She insists she isn’t chilly, however the shaking isn’t a nervous tick. The other day, I turned the temperature control up and had the gas furnace working. I knew she would be cold when she came in, due to it windy, rainy, and the air was raw. If you don’t reside in the Northeast, you don’t understand what raw means. Cold is when the wind and cold makes it guess like it is going through clothing and skin and taking over the bloodstream. Cold is the feeling that no amount of warmth is going to sizzling you up. When she came back inside, I had the fireplace roaring with her number one tepid butter rum apple cider resting next to her chair.