The Finite

One thing I don’t like about this Indiana climate is its misappropriation of water. I guess Lake Michigan must have had a slight humidifying effect, because the air is so dry in my room. It might have something to do with the phenomenon I observe every morning: the lower pane of the window accumulating moisture that Zach and I have collectively transpired overnight.

And with the advent of sub 255° outside air, we now have frost. Not just scrap-off-with-a-fingernail frost, it’s centimeter-thick The-Day-After-Tomorrow killer frost that I tried to chip at with a quarter before giving up and going to class.

Of course the aluminum of the window frame would have a low specific heat. Any chem major could have deduced that.

Now, I’ve never been a big water drinker (which probably explains the subcutaneous ischemia in my hands) but from now on, I have to keep a water bottle close at hand when I sleep. Otherwise, I’ll find myself woken up by dehydration with nothing I can do about it.

The little shelf on my bedloft for the alarm clock has no room for a top heavy bottle of water. So I improvised. I bought one of the high-capacity Purdue bottles and hung it from the frame with a lanyard and some of those wrist bands that Target gave us in case we ever felt like being corporate whores. Whenever I wake up, I can just pull the lanyard up and take a swig. Of course, I have to watch out for the straw coiled up inside that always pops out and hits me in the eye.