On a whim, I decided to try and sleep out in the garage area of our house last night. I got my sleeping bag and headed out. It was 11:15 or so, later than I usually go to bed here. My housemate was already in bed. I needed to see the sky and breath fresh air. I needed to try to think for a bit. And I needed a hard floor.
I don't know, I like sleeping on hard floors sometimes. Last night it was concrete, my thin sleeping bag, my t-shirt and long-sleeve shirts, and then my backbone. I liked it very much. I even got to think for a few minutes before allowing sleep to overcome me.
I had to get up and go to my room around 4:15 though because the concrete was too cold and my sleeping back too thin. It was probably only about 58 degrees, but I figured I wouldn't battle it out that night. I went to my bed. It's funny though. I never warmed up.
I like hard floors. Sometimes they're just the right place to be, the right place for me. I like only having myself to keep me comfortable. But yes, I think I like going back to a bed, too. I still find it strange though, that I didn't warm up. Is this how it's always going to be? Maybe I should just stay on the floor, by myself. Cold. Under the starless, city sky.