Which is to say fairly well. I feel pretty damn good, now that the Norovirus has stopped brutally kicking me in the nuts while I cried for mercy. It's snowing here, and I can't help but watch the whiteness float down and obscure everything. I can only imagine what the ground feels like on days like today. Is it cold? Is it simply sleeping, smiling to itself as it pulls the blankets closer around itself, lost in dream? I think I know how the ground feels, now- I suppose it doesn't take much thought to puzzle something like that out.

So, having nearly frozen my toes off watching the snowflakes fall to the ground, I recently retreated back into the calm solitude that is my basement, listening to Disturbed and Hinder and the like while I so brutally flame the inhabitants of the White Wolf boards that the snow and ice in a fifty mile area around my dwelling instantly turn to vapor, greatly disrupting the local economy and slaughtering a group of passing aliens, whom had yet to catalogue the vast temperatures produced by my posts.