Random Word: Calibration

The rain isn't warm anymore. It's cold enough to give you a headache in your feet when you step in a puddle. Even though I'm inside all day at the counter cooking and stuff, I'm starting to think that I'm going to wear wool socks and danner boots just for warmth.
We had malt-o-meal for breakfast and I made eight servings for the three of us. We put brown sugar and honey and ate it while it was still too hot, but we are still too cold. Asaph and I are sitting as close to the heater as we can and trying to get our feet warm. My toes are still numb from going outside just now.

Think of it! If you're lying in bed and you suddenly wake up and realize you have to go to the bathroom... You have to climb out of your bed (which is hard to do unless you're the middle) and then you have the first door. The bedroom door is unhinged and rests precariously against the frame. You have to figure how to move it without making a lot of noise or losing control of the entire thing.

As soon as you get out, a wave of cold confronts you--the first, you know, of four successively colder waves.
And sure enough, as you open the next bedroom door and step onto the wood floor in the living room, you notice how much colder it is.
The next door has a dead-bolt. It's the most secure door in the house because it was made to be an outside one. In the kitchen, you remember that this room lacks insulation. Then you turn the little lock on the frontest front door, give it a hard yank, and feel that final chill. The fourth door; the fourth chill.
And of course, as you carefully step onto the first step, which is really a hole with two boards covering it, a drop from the roof lands directly on your head--or worse, down your neck. Yes, that thang needs a gutter.
The path is muddy with clay and the rain is still falling. And right in front of the por-a-potty there is a  very unavoidable big puddle. At least it's not muddy... yet. And that is the moment you can stop regretting your choice of not putting shoes on before going outside. By now that puddle is so deep that if you wore shoes, they would have gotten soaked and of course, you would have one less pair of shoes the next day.

I know I make it sound really bad to live here--and to some, maybe it would feel really bad. But to others, it would feel really awesome. To be warm almost the entire day, to have every bit of food you want, in short, to have every need filled, is so much more than even seems right when I look at it in perspective. Why do we have everything? It seems wrong.