All right, that does it. I’m taking off my thinking cap and packing up my little computer. I refuse to work under these barbaric conditions. Snow is falling. And so, by the way, is my enthusiasm.
Frankly, I can’t decide which is worse: the snow or the lethargy. Snow piles up and it’s a pain in the neck to drive on, but I could stay inside and avoid the whole awful mess. Except I’m bored and there’s fun to be had in the outside world. There are bookstores out there. Movie theaters. Greasy spoons and coffee shops; there are stores and bowling alleys and arcades. All that stands between me and amusement are 500 jillion snowflakes and a windchill factor of 4º.
Television offers no respite. The Super Bowl, Sideshow Don, infomercials, maybe an old episode of Becker, those are the sad choices available. I have books, though, and dvds, but on this wintry Sunday afternoon I want warmth. And lots of it. So it’s off to the bathtub I go. I’ll spend the rest of the afternoon soaking in bubbly merriment beneath the heat lamp. I’ll pretend it’s the sun. In St. Tropez.
When I’m done, I’ll order a pizza and call the delivery guy Pierre.
I so love my fantasy world. Adieu, mes petites choux. ¹
copyright © 2018 the whirly girl
¹ Farewell, my little cabbages.