Chickens, I haven’t been into my office in 13 days.
I’m not even sure I remember which train to take to get there.
That’s maybe a slight exaggeration.
In any case, when I went to bed last night, I was looking forward to the routine of a regular (albeit blissfully short) work week.
But then it was hard to sleep.
Because it was hot.
And my air conditioner is still on the fritz.
Someone’s coming this morning to fix it, and left me a message last night saying to call him back to confirm because “he doesn’t like surprises.”
I forgot to call back.
I’m not planning any surprises though.
This morning, I woke up to the sound of every garbage truck in Chicago dealing with Memorial Day’s trash.
Nothing like an alarm of clashing metal to really get you going.
I decided to skip the yoga and try to catch a few extra minutes of sleep when JW walked into the room.
He informed me that our hot water isn’t working.
It’s been a long morning, chickadees.
I look fairly frightening, since cold water washing simply doesn’t do it for me.
The amount of dry shampoo in my hair is probably some kind of chemical hazard.
My plan today includes holing up in my air-conditioned cubicle and getting.back.to.it.
And then coming back to a home with hot water and climate control.
Then maybe I can get back to that yoga.