It is mine, wrinkles and all. I’m the kind of girl who puts on her clothes with the hope that the warmth of her body will undo the creases, so honestly wrinkles don’t bother me.
What is this contraption, you ask? A short-legged table with a small space heater attached to the underside. Come to think of it, it is bit like the daschund I had as kid. You stick your toes in its undercarriage and hope for the best. Then cover the whole thing with a big blanket, and you’ve got yourself a little winter nest.
I might let the kotatsu swallow me up to the chin. I’ll see you in the spring.