Maybe I *am* crazy!

The things I do for love are crazy - we all do them, really. Take risks we otherwise wouldn't, try new things, etc....
But at some point, we draw the line. We cling to what we know of ourselves, and refuse to be bought - even for the sake of love.
So why have I agreed to sleep outside on our front porch next to the trimmed-off remnants of this year's (last year's) Christmas tree? Why, with hair still wet from my shower, am I laying on a narrow camping pad in a zero degree sleeping bag when my down comforter is but meters away? Why am I hearing the distinctly maddening rustle of Nylon(or whatever new hybrid-trendy-extreme sports fabric they've come up with) every time i make the slighest move?
Why, as I type, do my fingers slow with spreading chill when they could be warmed with my favorite mug of tea?
Because
There's this large warm mass next to me
Shrouded beneath it's own layers of Nylon
And this thing(husband-type thing) has *very* persuasive eyes, especially when proposing Adventure

And I do crazy things for love - still figuring out how far I'll go.
Until next time, hope your homes are full of warmth and
peace.
Weather: Current temp - 14 degrees. Feels like 6.

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