Let's just say it: it is
cold outside. And because not all of us have that fire delightful to melt away the weather frightful, I am piling blankets and blankets upon my bed. Yes, I mocked when Lilo told me she had four blankets weighing down her mattress, but now it's my turn. I've dug out the flannels, the thickly-lined sweatshirts, the knitted woolens. Between all that, a stack of Harry Potter books, and a bag of candied ginger, I'm finally toasty.
Wow, this post brought back a flood of childhood memories. When I was little my sister and I would stay at my grandmother's house. My sister would get to sleep on the bed, but I slept on the floor. My grandmother piled covers upon covers on the floor. The top cover was my favorite, it was velet on one side and satin on the other. I loved that cover. Over the years, it shredded to pieces. But this year, for some reason, I thought so much about the cover, I asked Santa to try and find me one. Crossing my fingers, he finds one...
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