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Living in the Midwest, I’ve developed a very specific hibernation mode that kicks in the second the thermometer hits single digits. My current evening plans consist of sitting so close to the space heater I might actually fuse with it, while my cat judges me from the safety of a heated bed I bought her because I’m a pushover. There is a certain solidarity in staying inside and refusing to acknowledge the existence of the outdoors until the wind stops screaming.
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If you’re currently barricaded in your living room waiting for a spring that feels decades away, these posts are for you. Let these fluffy friends provide the warmth that your drafty windows cannot, and remember that staying inside is technically a form of seasonal survival.
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