There was a stretch, not long ago, where things simply worked. You did not warm up to them. They arrived, you arrived, the matter resolved itself in a sensible amount of time and everyone got on with their evening.
That is not, currently, the arrangement.
I will not dramatise it. It is not a crisis. It is more that the body, lately, would like a little notice. A little warmth before the main business. A moment to be persuaded that this is, in fact, happening, rather than being asked to produce something on demand like a vending machine that owes you nothing.
The One Hot Bunny warms to 40°C before it touches you. I assumed this was decorative. It is not. It is the difference between get on with it and take your time — and it turns out the body has opinions about which of those it is being offered.
