I like briefly-warm things. As a kid I loved jumping into the warm piles of laundry on my mom and dad's bed. My mom got mad at me every single time and to this day I have NO idea why. What the hell is so wrong with enjoying the fleeting heat of the warm clothes? Now that I do all of my own laundry, I still like to sit on my bed, pile the clothes up around and over me while I fold them. If I'm having a shitty day, I'll take the towels, lie down and use them as blankets. So warm and cuddly.
Whenever I was in school and had to get massive amounts of photocopy done, I would hold the finished sheets close to me and suck up the heat and that inky smell through my chest and inner arms. Like a hot bath, once they were cold the laundry and the photocopies meant almost nothing to me - they were placed back on the shelf of just regular things - but for those few fleeting heat-moments they had the ability to make me stop, relax, and think about nothing but how good it felt to be warm.