Oh, yeah. I’m pretty sure it’s Wednesday. I’d better check to make sure, though.
Okay. Now that THAT has been established…do I do anything special on Wednesday? I mean other than my last-minute mad dash to finish reading the chapter that I was supposed to read this past week for my class tonight. Other than that…I don’t think so. So let me just ramble, if you please.
First of all: Dammit I’m cold! I HATE cold. I hate cold more than I hate OPRAH. I hate cold more than I hate STUPID. It’s not an old age thing, either, thank you very much. I’ve always hated the cold. I’m not a big fan of body parts going numb and I certainly don’t like getting brain freezes through my ears. Does anyone else have that happen? No? Just me, then. Okay.
I’ve got on Big E’s hunting insulated long johns…which, when used in conjunction with tighter-than-looser blue jeans makes me feel like a stuffed sausage. I’ve got on his wool socks, too. If I could have found his insulated undershirt in my mad dash to LAYER this morning, I’d have that on as well. I settled for a long sleeve t-shirt under a denim button-up, a fleece jacket and a wool coat. I was going to wear Tween C’s scarf, but she squealed when she walked outside to catch the bus this morning, so I begrudgingly gave that up to her. It may seem silly to you that I’ve got all these clothes on just to walk from the house to the car and from the car to my office, but you wouldn’t understand unless you worked in my building for at least several seasons. It’s an old building. Drafty is an understatement. It’s downright WINDY in this joint. The summers are freaking hot and the winters are unbearably cold. Everyone has, at his or her desk, their own heating and cooling supplemental systems (aka a fan and a space heater). Both stay in place year-round, because Louisiana weather is so freakin’ crazy. It could be warm in the morning, and cold in the afternoon. And don’t try to go pee in the winter. The toilet is the coldest spot in the whole place. When you sit down, it honest-to-goodness takes your breath away. There’s nothing more pleasing than literally freezing your ass off two to three times a day. Nothing.
So, I’d like to lodge a formal complaint against the weather. I’m not sure who to call, though. Maybe NOAA. Maybe the U.S. Department of the Interior. Or the Exterior. I’m going to call someone. And I’m going to give them a piece of my mind. Wouldn’t that be funny? Crazy people do that sort of stuff all the time. I think I could pull off crazy.
Now, in the true spirit of rambling, as promised, here’s a totally unrelated cartoon from toothpastefordinner.com, which, as you know, I heart…a lot.