Winter Lust

It's that time of year. Nope, not almost Christmas, tho' I guess it is that, actually. But, like everyone else whose life is constrained and sustained by the academic calendar, I do not acknowledge Christmas until after the final exams are graded. Nope, by "that time of year" I mean: 'tis the season for porn. Oh, not that kind. I'm talking catalogue porn. Specifically winter clothing catalogue porn. Temperatures today here in balmy Baton Rouge are in the high 70s. Humidity hovers at 90%. My students came to class, as always, in shorts and flip-flops. And I, I sit on the sofa with my Eddie Bauer and my L.L. Bean and my J. Jill catalogues, and I linger lovingly, lustfully, longingly on the full-page, color photos of thigh-length chunky wool sweaters and thick velvet leggings, down parkas and polartec ski jackets, matching fluffy hat and mittens sets. It is not healthy for me, I know. But damn, it feels good.