{ Sunday, September 25, 2005 }

In Which I am Hyperbolic About My Own Death.

I have a green bean! My green beans somehow managed to pollenate indoors, or at least one did and I have a green bean growing in my window! I am very excited about this. I'm not sure how it has come to pass that it's been two whole days and I have not yet taken a picture of, nor have I named, my green bean.

I'm not sure I'm gonna be able to eat my first green bean that I grew with no help.

So, Saturday night, it is possible that I had ice cream and champange for dinner. It's possible that I actually went out and bought some sweet bread, ice cream, microwavable hot fudge and champagne to have for dinner. It is equally possible that I then forgot to turn the thermostat down before I went to bed.

And then, in this hypothetical situation, I may have gotten out of the bed after midnight, still slightly possibly tipsy, because I was very warm. I may not have turned on any lights and I may have set the thermostat to "like sixty" degrees F.

As I already knew, my boyfriend is a native Arizonan and does not like the cold. He especially does not like the cold when he's trying to sleep. As it turns out, I took the big corduoroy quilt off of the bed and draped it over the ledge on Wednesday because I washed the sheets. And so we slept in a sixty degree apartment until six thirty in the morning when my boyfriend finally had the good sense to retrieve the blanket.

This brings us to how it happened that I got out of bed at seven ten this morning. Because, you see, the aforementioned frozen boyfriend who had not slept well had a rowing class at seven thirty and could not locate a Nalgene. After what I am sure was a long period of quietly looking for it, he seemed to decide that the best way to find a Nalgene when running a tiny bit late for a class is to scream "fuck" over and over again at the top of one's lungs.

This does not cause the Nalgene to come running. Rather, it causes the girlfriend to yell back that there's a water bottle in the pantry, on the floor, in a plastic bag. Continuing to curse loudly, while I'm sure looking very hard on the floor of the pantry for a plastic bag full of plastic containers that has been there since you moved in in June and has not moved since, will actually cause the girlfriend to rise from the bed, watch you attempt to locate the Nalgene in the pantry and then grab it herself and start washing it. At which time the one you were looking for will appear in the bottom of the sink where you put it on Wednesday while you were cleaning house. The appropriate response to this is to continue screaming curse words.

It is possible that he was not actually yelling and I just had a hangover. Maybe.

The moral of the story has nothing to do with going to bed tipsy, having hot fudge sundaes for dinner or accidentally making your apartment into such a tundra that the cat actually slept curled up in a small ball under the bed in his cat bed. No, the moral of the story is clearly that one should not clean house.

Saturday afternoon, Steady and I decided to get some lunch downtown. I suggested that we walk. He said "It's going to be really hot outside."

I put on a skirt and a t-shirt. Sure, it's supposed to be 102*F outside, but it's a dry heat, right? Something like that? Surely it's not too hot to walk a mile and a half each way at noon when it's almost October. Not if you don't wear long pants.

I was so mistaken. I was miserably hot and sweaty and ick. I got blisters on the tops of my toes because my feet were so sweaty. (Steady: "They make these cloths you put on your feet and they protect you from your shoes. You should look into that." me: "I hate wearing socks." Steady: Oh, so you've heard of them.")

And THEN, you know what happened after we had lunch and I ate too much tofu and I was just barely recovered from my near death experience of the walk over?

Yeah, we totally had to walk home. I suggested, in all seriousness, finding an ATM and a cab. I mean, how much could a cab be? It's a mile and a half. The boyfriend did not think this was a plausible idea as it was daytime and there were no taxis in any of the taxi stands.

So, we stopped in the bookstore. And I found some books. Two fluffy ones and one serious from the three for two table. Steady found one giant assed book about a programming language. And then he carried all four books home because I was busy trying to plot my course so I could be in as much shade as possible while being as far from the heat generating asphalt as possible and therefore extend my life for a few extra minutes.

Seriously. It's almost October. When will this heat fucking end? I've reached the point at which I am beginning to doubt that fall exists and that anyone anywhere could possibly be experiencing it, because CLEARLY it's still the height of the damned summer.

I'm really mad at the heat.

Anyway, you can see how after my near heatstroke experience came together with the champagne for dinner and caused me to maybe overreact to a warm bedroom when adjusting the thermostat in the dark.

posted by mary ann 11:20 PM