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Not My Morning

This morning = Not my morning

It was eight degrees below zero last night. Now I know someone up in Alaska just thought, �Ha! Eight below! We wear hot pants and tube tops when it is eight below!� Nonetheless, it was freakin� freezing last night. In an old house with old windows and 1976 insulation (i.e. the daily newspaper from 1976 shoved in cracks), the furnace can run all night and still only maintain a room temperature of about 58 degrees. Needless to say, I wasn�t leaping out of bed this morning.

To top it off, it was dark. We are rewiring the house and that means no light switches on the second floor. We have lamps in most of the rooms, only the bulb in the lamp next to me decided to pop as I tried to turn it on this morning. So now it is cold and dark � like a cave. And I�m still safe and warm under my down comforter. And Eli is still curled up next to me snurring away (snoring/purring). So I hit the snooze button again as Ryan shuffles off to start his day. Only it wasn�t the snooze button, it was the off button. And I resumed snurring with Eli.

When I finally came to, it was 7:45, and I�d lost part of my little toe to frostbite. Luckily, I�d showered last night after the gym. Unluckily, my fancy new hair had matted itself sideways on the back of my head. After burning my right ear with the flat iron, I managed to get my hair mostly straightened out. I put on the rest of my face and stumbled out the door into the blinding cold of a lofty four degree morning. Woo! 4! I think when you factor in wind chill that gets it in the neighborhood of five below. Sweet! A wisp of hair blew into my face and froze into my sticky-shine lip gloss. Once I got it released, it whipped back and smacked cherry red lip gloss all over my cheek. Beautiful. Now I had a red mark on my cheek to match the burnt charred skin on my ear.

I arrived at work exactly 7 minutes late, just in time to make it look like I was working when the CEO walked past my office. I rushed in the bathroom to assess the damage of the freezing lip gloss wispy hair fiasco only to discover that in the 22 minutes since I had unplugged the flat iron, my hair had returned to its original plastered sideways to the back of my head position. Frantic, I searched in the cabinet below the sink to find some type of styling product that could help. I would�ve been happy to find a bottle of White Rain, people. Anything! Of course there was nothing. This lead me to impulse buy an uber-expensive flat iron off of eBay. Take that sideways plastered hair!

Back in my office, I found my W2 sitting on my chair. Curious to see if Bush would be serving Crystal or Boone�s on my tax dollars at his inaugural ball, I began opening it. For the record, I believe guests will have a choice of Crystal or Dom Perignon. Now I�m sporting a lovely bleeding paper cut on my left index finger thanks to the convoluted envelope/fold out document my company chose for it�s W2s. DAMMIT!

About an hour ago, someone stopped by and offered me a donut, and just now the sun peeked out from behind a cloud, so maybe things are looking up. Here is a random selection of phrases I have said in the past 24 hours:

  • Good news, Mike put the kibosh on Celine Dion. Said she was too flakey.
  • Imagine it � wild ferret sex!
  • No, it feels exactly like waking up with an additional 14 inches of hair attached to my head.
  • Phucking Phucktographer.
  • Those girl scouts are really slow with cookie delivery times. You think after 75 some years they'd show a sign of improvement.
  • 12:43 p.m. - January 14, 2005

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