Frigid

I was planning on posting something thoughtful, but I just looked up from my computer to see Joe, one of the workers here at L’Abri, entering the room with his son. They stood there staring at me, and Nate said, “See Dad, I told you so. ”

I stared up at them from the corner of the couch where I had buried myself in two pairs of pants, wool socks, slippers, a sweater and a vest, a scarf and a hat, and a fleece blanket. I had to take my gloves off to type, but was holding a cup of scalding water. Joe rolled his eyes disapprovingly. “You’re over-dramatizing, ” he scolded, his voice dripping with patronizing annoyance. I promptly flew off the handle, reminding him that I had not ONCE asked anyone to turn on the heat, and hadn’t complained or whined, and while yes I may drink hot water all day and wear my hat inside at all times, and sure I’ve been found folding myself over the oven with the broiler on to thaw out, and yes I may have nearly caught my hair on fire leaning over candles at dinner, none of this was meant to be taken as passive aggression… this was me trying to bear it gracefully. So unless he has an electric blanket as a birthday present would he mind letting me WRITE. He said he was sorry he asked (I’m pretty sure he meant it), and turned and left.

I feel all dragony, but without the warming benefit of actually being able to breathe fire.

a post script note- please avoid all comments reminding me chidingly that it’s only October, and how am I going to survive the winter, and hadn’t I better buck up. I’ve been bucking up, and I have big plans to start again as soon as this post is posted.