As I watched fat, fluffy flakes dance outside my window last week during one of the first snowfalls of the year in Washington, I longed to be wrapped in a blanket on my couch, binging my latest television obsession and cradling a bowl of something warm to eat. Instead, I was prone in bed, down bad with some sort of cold (strep throat, I later discovered), watching shows only between the rounds of sleep my body forced upon me to try to recover.