socked in

This low cloud blanket hanging over Eugene through the last week threatens to settle itself in my head and limbs.  I am becoming a creature of fog and shadow, slow ideas and movements, perpetually numb fingers and toes, constantly breathing in and sipping at the medley of teas I am endlessly preparing for myself in a fruitless effort to get warm.  If I don’t become lost in the fog on my way out to the mailbox, I may certainly become trapped beneath this expanding and precariously stacked collection of tea and coffee cups on my work table.