The gauge on the kerosene heater reads 5 degrees when I turn it on. I'm better at converting from farenheit rather than into it, but I think that means it's around forty degrees in the room. Given the fact that I can see my breath, that seems about right. Thankfully, Paul has turned on the toilet seat, which means not only am I greeted with a toasty, cushy foam seat, but afterwards, with a push of a button, a warm jet of water comes on and squirts up to finish off the job. One could get addicted to going to the bathroom under such circumstances.
In my school e-mail account, which they will let me into until the end of the year, I receive notice about a philosophy conference in India on March 6th. It is truly a good thing that you have to get a visa before entering India, otherwise I might just have ended up there, such is the plasticity of my plans
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