In the bathroom, I throw on an oversized t-shirt for bed. It hangs to almost my knees.
The evening chill in the room is cut by the warm air coming up from the heater vent in the floor next to the dirty clothes hamper. I go over and stand right over it, bare feet to either side. The warm air shoots straight up underneath me, poufing my night shirt.
Huh. I thought it would make me feel like Marilyn Monroe, but it just makes me want to pee.
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