A head full of snow

(Though I don't think I mean it in the quite the same way as Mick and the boys did.)

There were flurries all afternoon, and in the middle of my usual Saturday errands, I treated myself to a chai latte, which I drank sitting on a concrete wall on West 43rd Street. It was a tolerable 30 degrees or so, and it was lovely to drink hot tea while snow swirled gently around and dusted my clothes.

Eventually the cold concrete leached enough heat out of my ass that I couldn't stay still anymore, but it was a lovely interlude, like sitting inside a snow globe.