Nor Wind, Nor Rain, Nor Lack of Heater

I hate being cold. With every fiber of my being. When I told my parents that I was considering going to Boston for college, they laughed and laughed while imagining me refusing to attend classes on the principle that if water has the good sense to become ice at a certain temperature we should probably have the common sense to stay indoors. One of the numbers on my pro-con list of moving to Oklahoma was: It's got to be warmer than Illinois. Why do I mention this, you ask?

The heater at work stopped working yesterday.

Yes, indeed, I went to work early in the morning yesterday, refused to take off my coat in the Reference office for that shift, then kicked the mini space heater up to dangerous levels at the Information desk, and finally - in an act that clearly represents my bravery and dedication - I went back to work this morning. A workplace that has no heat.

No. Heat.

I begin wearing my heavy coat in September. I have three sets of gloves/scarves/hats that I have been known to wear all at the same time. My only problem with my first roommate? My sincere belief that she was part polar bear as illustrated by our tussles over the thermostat. My father claims that if he set me on fire at noon on a humid day, I would still complain of a draft. When the southern baptists at my old high school would tell me that we were all going to hell, my favorite quip was that at least I would finally be warm.

I'm still thawing as I huddle under two blankets with a cup of gingerbread coffee at my feet. The spirit is mildly willing to brave these conditions, but it's easily hounded to death by the flesh smashing it over the head with a placard that reads "The hell are we doing here, woman?! It's cold!" My pay stub cannot compete with a profane placard.

I have the day off tomorrow, which is good because I'm not sure I could make myself enter a building again that doesn't inspire one to remove any layers. Though, I should probably stop looking for prospective jobs in Chicago - any place called the Windy City is most likely a bad sign. I wonder how the book editing biz is in New Mexico?