On a cold night, I like one of those microwaveable bean bags nestled around my neck, and someone to throw it back in the microwave for me after it cools down.
On a cold night, I like to fold clothes just out of the dryer.
On a cold night, I get out my warmest pajamas and slippers.
On a cold night, I long to knit a blanket and have it spill over my lap, growing out of control.
On a cold night, if I must go out, I demand corduroys.
On a cold night, nothing calls to me more loudly than a bed covered with quilts.
On a cold night, there's no place like home.
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