My winter futon weighs heavily on my mind these days. Last night I think I slept a total of two hours, and lost two pounds from sweat.

Ahh, the night is cool, my futon the perfect thing to warm me, my girl by my side PJ-ed and content, we slip into warm fuzz sleep.

And I awaken five minutes later, covered in sweat, she is murmering `atsui..atsui!` and so I roll out of the covers and bask in the cool night air that seeps through my open window.. and sleep..

Only to awaken five minutes later, clammy and chilled to the requisite temperature for storing refridgerated goods. I attempt to slide only the most sensitive bits under the covers.. half-in, half-out, half-baked and half-frozen, I sleep..

Or some semblance of sleep.. I toss and turn rotating my frozen and frying bits. Something has changed but I dont have the energy to open my eyes.. the hot bits are hotter, and my cold bits are no longer clammy.. I pry my eyes open with immense willpower..

My girl has removed her PJs. She is hot. I mean, DAMN, she is hot. Waves of heat roll off her supinity. I consider shoving her off the bed onto the floor, pouring water on her inert form to see the steam rise, placing a foil blanket on her and dousing her in butter and mushrooms, delicious.. but instead I consider the evening a test of extremes, much like what Navy Seals go through in their most arduous training..

Morning comes, and I am a hollow shell of a man. The shower harms me. I cannot bear the feeling of clothes.. the milk is boiling to my lips and freezing to my guts.

Ah, the delicate balance of Spring.