Picked up our dinner tonight at the local Cat in Soy Sauce restaurant (no offense to my Chinese friends, the cuisine is wonderful if you like domesticated animals mixed with red peppers hot enough to solder your tongue to the roof of your mouth) and while the AAA office digital thermometer read 75 degrees, my nuts knew differently. Think peas in bowling ball bag. Got the image now?
"Horse puckey," I yelled, farting again because the Mean Green Melissa Machine takes 10 minutes to pump out heat, and it's only a 5-minute drive to the Cat in Soy Sauce joint. I gotta keep warm somehow.
I moved to the Grand Canyon state for three reasons: 1. Warm weather and no snow; 2. Spring training baseball; and 3. Wife said I had to. No where in our discourse over the move did Wife mention that December through February gets wiener-shrinking cold. Oh, she railed about the heat, made it sound like its wonder she survived 20-plus years of her ass frying on leather-upholstered car seats, but she forgot to mention the snotsicles I'll get when moving the trash out to the curb during a blustery December night.
A couple of weeks ago, I had put blankets on my citrus trees. That's friggin' cold in my book. When trees need bundling up, you know Jack Frost is nipping at your ass. Trees don't need blankets. Their TREES. You don't see them blowing on their branches to stay warm. Their not stamping their roots to get the sap moving. They sit there and let the wind blow through the leaves.
I'd build a fire in our fireplace, but Wife thought the grate made a better setting for an array of colorful candles. So now, our fire place looks like a prayer box in a Catholic Church.
"The candles bring color to the family room. Don't you think?"
She looks at it like it's a master of work of art. All I see is a misused heat source that would be better spent thawing out my undies.
"The blue in my frozen extremities brings color to the room, too, sweetheart." I add the sweetheart to most sentences to distract Wife from the sarcasm hoping she'll only hear the endearment and forget the opening clause. It hasn't worked yet.
She tells me to bundle up in a blanket if I'm cold, and I say I would, but the trees have them all.
Admittedly, I'm a wimp when the temp drops. I check the thermostats in the house a couple of times per day thinking something's wrong with the heater because it reads 68 and the house should be at 70. Dammit, those two degrees matter. Who cares if we're facing an energy crisis? I'm facing an energy crisis too. My blood ain't moving fast enough because it's too damn cold, hence I'm dragging ass, energyless because my thermostat has conspired against me.
At least I have these red Chinese peppers to keep me warm during these 50 degree nights. At least my gut will be warm as I'm chowing them down with my cat in soy sauce.
1 comment:
1. You said you LIKED the way the fireplace looked when it is decorated with candles.
2. It does NOT look like prayer votives in a Catholic Church. (But if that's your impression, maybe it's your subconsious indicating you need to pray...)
3. I'd LOVE to start a fire in the fireplace, but the army of nutcrackers you stationed in front of the screen when you "helped" me decorate for Xmas halts me in my tracks and eventually causes my retreat.
I'm sure it will warm up soon enough, Darling. But in the mean time, perhaps you'll consider dressing for WINTER for a change? Dressing in shorts and t-shirts year-round does not make the temperature rise any faster...
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