When I woke up in the morning, the north wind was howling as usual. A cold snap is coming, the weather is cooling down, and it's cold outside. The window panes of the north balcony were frozen with a thick layer of ice flowers, like a large white flannel curtain being pulled up. There are still three days to go before Chinese New Year's Eve, and everyone in the unit is busy and can't care about lunch. When I came home from work at night, I shivered from the cold. After living in the Northeast for so many years, I found that I was becoming less and less frost-resistant. It may be that after a year of age, the deterioration of body function can not bear the cold, and the old arms and legs are very afraid of cold. No wonder, more and more elderly people are flying south for the winter like migratory birds. Oh, of course, I'm still a young man.

I remember when I was in elementary school, every Spring Festival, I would paste Spring Festival couplets on the two big wooden doors at home. In my spare time, in a diary, I write down the Spring Festival couplets that I have pasted every year, and at the same time imitate the pen style on the Spring Festival couplets. At that time, there were no calligraphy classes in the small county town, and there was no teacher to learn calligraphy. At this moment, I am lamenting the poor small county town and the three old earthen houses in the poor family. The annual tuition fee of two yuan and five yuan in primary school is all reduced and exempted, so that I can afford it. The front of the book is used up and the back is used.,Pencil words are left to write pen words.,Pen words are left to write some soft pen words after writing.。 More often than not, I practice writing on the yellow food wrapper that I have opened, or on straw paper or horse manure paper. Now if you give me even a piece of horse manure paper to write, will I still write? I don't know. Of course, I'm going to write it, except that the paper is very rough, there is no big smell, and I mean, it makes you focus on writing. When I think of the poverty I lived in before, I really envy the children now, who have such superior conditions and so many opportunities to study. Don't live up to it, don't let down the differences that this era has given you, create your differences, and doom you to be extraordinary.

During the summer vacation at that time, my sister and brother ran crazy in the depths of the alleys with their friends every day, playing in the fields, mountains, orchards, and farmlands, and playing wildly. Of course, they didn't bully me into working, I was just lazy and didn't want to go out and run around, you know, running around that thing is also quite physically demanding. Compared to the uncles who serve chickens, ducks, geese, dogs, pigs, rabbits and birds at home, I think I am a brisk job. At least the scorching sun won't bake me to the ground of black Ryukyu, and I will be covered in sour sweat, and my soul will be painted on the ground. The sky I am most afraid of may be the scorching sun, as if I am a flower sapling, a sapling that can be scorched under the scorching sun. The head is buzzing, and I can't lift it, and I can be sunburned in an instant. It was a bad taste, and after tasting it countless times, I didn't want to do it to the best of my ability, and it was enough to think about it. Of course, I don't have any opinion on the rising and setting sun overhead. At this time, it hung in the sky and was so beautiful.

At that time, chickens were the most fed in the family, and the nutrition of the whole family was counting on the eggs they laid. Summer is full of the smell of chicken manure, which is the most unbearable. If you go to a place in the countryside with a lot of chickens in the summer, you must smell the chicken manure for 20 miles before you get to the village. After getting used to it for a while, you find that the smell of chicken manure is gone. Where does the smell of chicken manure go? It's not that the smell of chicken manure has gone away, it's that after smelling too much, your nose thinks it's time to stop for a while! Strike.

Taking advantage of the time when the group of uncles digested food, the homework for the holiday was completed. Tidy it up and put it on the side of the table, ready to lend it to the disobedient little pot friend to take home to imitate.

I remember when I was in the fourth grade, the teacher's homework was a diary every day, and now in retrospect, writing a diary is a good study habit, and I am very grateful to the teacher for enlightening me in literature. There was a time when my good classmate, who was disobedient, slept in the same room as me, and of course, she was a relative of mine. The small county town is already small, and the small village is even smaller, if you talk about it from the elders, from the east of the village to the west of the village, almost the whole village is a relative. Every time the teacher collects the diary, I am the first to hand it in, and the disobedient little pot friend is always the last, chirping and reluctant to hand in the diary. It was as if it wasn't her diary, it was clearly a bundle of great unity, and she couldn't see it at a glance, as if someone was stealing it.

You know that the last homework to be handed in, placed at the top of a stack of homework books, means that the teacher will be the first to hand it in. I was concerned about the teacher's comments at the back of the diary. In about a month, the teacher's comments became a "read" word, and the article was the same. This is in stark contrast to the red ink handwriting on the first half. I was puzzled, and I kept thinking that I was regressing more and more, and I had failed to live up to the teacher's expectations. However, the more you think about it, the more restrained you become, even if it is a word or an idiom, you have to open the dictionary to look it up, and when you finish writing, there is only a head of wax left. With the flickering flames and the inadvertent dripping wax from the diary, the disobedient little pot friend fell asleep on the fire pit. Looking back now, because of writing a diary, I really feel that I have tortured myself enough! Even if he wrote so hard until midnight, the teacher only lightly approved the word "read", which seemed to mean that he didn't want to pay attention to me. When I was extremely depressed, I was depressed and weak, and I didn't dare to ask the teacher. I'm afraid that the teacher will find a parent and the subway sand palm will come over in the air, and I can't help but lie on my back half a mile away, dying. When I came home from school and cooked on the fire, I was thinking about it. Maybe there's no reason, if I really have to find a reason, it's that I haven't worked hard enough, and I'm extremely reluctant to write a diary for the teacher to approve and "read"! One was not paying attention, and the flames under the stove came out coldly, and half of his eyebrows and hairs were burned. Looking in the mirror, I was like the king of playing cards, but I was missing a pointed hat and shoes with hooks. What else could I do, I had to go under the stove and pick up an unburned wooden stick and draw the upper half of my eyebrows with the black end.

After another week or so, things finally changed. In the diary sent out that day, the teacher did not approve the word "read", but instead gave it a big red question mark. I stared intently at the great question mark, which seemed to come from it that made me dizzy, causing a stream of heat to gush out of my eyes. The interpretation expressed by the words is replaced by symbols, which indicates the mood of the teacher when he opens the diary and reads it. This "question mark" is much better than that word "read", in my opinion. It's not just a whole bunch of reviews, it's more or less a reminder of something.

The diary is still written every day, that is, neat and restrained. It doesn't matter if I write off-topic or badly, just do my homework for the sake of my homework and have fun with it. Anyway, I seem to be happy to spend time in my diary.

Almost every night at ninety o'clock, I would lie down and fall asleep next to my disobedient little pot friend. The disobedient little pot friend goes to bed early and gets up late, a big lazy worm. Then again, sleeping soundly is a blessing! It's no wonder that you can't get tired of running and playing like crazy every day. Look at her, how soundly she is sleeping at this moment, as if she is dreaming, chasing butterflies in the game in her dream? Thinking, thinking, before I knew it, I was asleep. At this moment, it seemed that I was also dreaming, dreaming that there was thunder in the sky, and after the rumbling sound, the rain poured down. Then, this disobedient little pot friend ran in from outside the door wearing a raincoat, and kept shaking the raindrops on the raincoat at me, so that all the water droplets splashed on my body, and I woke up at once. I wanted to pull this disobedient little pot friend who slept next to me twice, why did he bounce the rain all over me? What about people? Slacker? This is her nickname, usually everyone calls her Nizi, she always goes to bed so early, sleeps so soundly, and can't get a pit in the sun. What did she do now? When did she learn to wake up early? Or did I sleep too deeply and never noticed? I rubbed my eyes to drive away my sleepiness and sober myself up. Then, sit up slightly and prop up your upper body with your arms.

Oh my God! At this moment I saw this lazy insect sitting in front of the table in high spirits, holding my diary in her hand, and making copies of hers! Like a hungry man, the food was just brought to the table and swept away. You're a petan. I almost jumped up from the pit in a fit of rage, thinking that if I didn't do something, I would go crazy! At this point, I barely suppressed my emotions and lay down, pretending not to see anything. After the lazy worm finished copying the diary, he first put my diary back the way it came, and then packed his school bag and quietly crawled back to the pit. I pretended to be asleep, and caught a glimpse of the lazy worm as if nothing had happened, and fell asleep after a while. At this time, I suddenly remembered the dream I had just had, and it seemed that the sound of thunder in the dream was the sound she made when she got up to look for something, and she kept shaking her raincoat, which was the sound of flipping my diary. However, I didn't feel the slightest bit for such a long time. As my mother used to say, my heart was so big that I was about to catch up with the washbasin.

On the way to school in the morning, the disobedient little pot friends talked and laughed, and shouted nonsense with a smile on their faces. I said lazy worm, you Nizi is too lively, and she said that it is just right to integrate with my "brute". I said lazy worm, you Nizi is like the cage uncle I serve every day, and there is no time for you to worry. She said that her liveliness, cuteness, and coquettishness are a fact that everyone loves her. Now, whenever I recall these words from Nizi as a child, although, after so many years, these words have not become shallow with the passage of time, but have become more and more profound, which touches me a lot. And now, the lazy worm Nizi is a woman who is more and more magical the more she lives! Life has passed vividly. Sometimes indulge in your own circle and call for wind and rain.