It’s cold. Last autumn, September was milder, but the government countered that by refusing to turn on the heat until we were well past the point of no return as far as the approaching winter was concerned. As usual, the heat in this particular building was only turned on after enough people called the mayor’s office and screamed. I was already spiking a 39 degree fever by then.
This weather reminds me of the joke I read earlier in the year on bash.org.ru: “In preparation for spring, I installed a water heater. The government refuses to give up and has turned off the cold water.” (Springtime is when the hot water usually gets ceremonially shut off, for two weeks, at least).
The cold makes me miss the States. We didn’t get nearly enough snow in North Carolina, but there was beauty in coming home in the twilight hours, to a quiet house, firing up the central heating (when most people could still afford it) and watching the hard-bitten slate clouds disgorge a few stray flakes from the safety of a bedroom guarded on all sides by pop culture talismans and by the carpet on the bottom.
In Kiev I swear I can hear the wolves howling if I listen hard enough on these solemn nights, these metro rides with that one guy with the mad left eye staring at your throat in a bad way.
Oh, the romance! Intrigue! Danger!Continue reading “A Cryin’ the Dreadful Wind and Rain”