Temperature Swing
When cabin fever runs high, the solution is found deep in the cold Wyoming mountains
It’s usually in February, in the frozen heart of winter, when I can’t take it anymore. The days are short and cold and the nights are long and even colder. The sun is weak and tired, dropping out of sight at five in the evening and barely crawling back up into the sky by seven in the morning. Despite the fact that I get out skate skiing at lunch almost every day, I’m basically living indoors, which drives me nuts. I might as well be a house cat or a hamster.
In response, I start dreaming of my favorite campsites, a little tent beside an alpine tarn or a bivouac on a mountain ledge. I imagine this is what prisoners do. Their minds teleport them far away, to another world where they are free.
I wouldn’t make much of a prisoner. I’m sure I’d start plotting my escape within months, because that’s precisely what I do in the dead of winter: contrive
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