But if, like Queequeg and me in the bed, the tip of your nose or the crown of your head be slightly chilled, why then, indeed in the gen­eral con­scious­ness you feel most delight­fully and unmis­tak­ably warm.

I save the window-opening rit­ual for Friday nights, after a long, tir­ing week, when the sweaters are all folded, and the shirts all ironed. Before I go to bed, I turn off the lights, square off my desk, and turn the win­dow crank 220 degrees clock­wise. Even though the ther­mo­stat is at 23°C, it’s any­where from –16°C to 5°C out­side these nights.

When I wake up at 5:00 a.m., as I usu­ally do, my room is filled with the chilly, snow-smelling air.

I do this only once a week to appre­ci­ate it.

I do it on Fridays to enjoy it.