During the week, Husband Mike has a day job in which talks to a lot of very ill people, with ailments you have never heard of and probably don’t want to know about. But he comes home and tells me about them because otherwise he’d lose his mind from sadness and fear. There are so many ways to get sick, you guys, and so many of them will just blindside you. We talk about them, and we mourn, and we say how grateful we are not to be ill ourselves.
Last week he came home and said, “I’ve found a new thing I don’t want to be.”
Yes, you read that right. WARM in the SUMMER. I am sitting at my desk right now, eating my lunch and freezing my gazongas off. And it’s 85 degrees in the greater Twin Cities area right now, headed for 94 later this afternoon.
Office workers are all too aware that summer means air conditioning cranked up to levels capable of crystallizing our snot. Although the sun may graciously warm those lucky enough to sit near windows, most of us cube farmers spend our days shivering as we type.
Don’t get me wrong. I am beyond grateful for the AC. If I had an outdoor gig, or worked in an electric-fan-only situation, I’d be far, far grumpier. But the fact is, it puts a major cramp in the summer Sal-style to work inside a refrigerator on days when I want to wear my sundresses and sleeveless tops.