It’s really hot. Hotter than it’s been in a long, long time. It’s supposed to get up to 103 today (will feel like 115, so say’s Janet Huff at WNBC, and I trust Janet!) A good day to crawl into a hole.
But it’s beautiful, finally, in LA, I’m so happy for them. Seriously, I am. No one should have this weather, and they suffered through it longer than most. Ick. All of this heat is making me, and my computer a little – how you say – screwey?
But we have two cool areas in the house; the basement (my new office, aka the hole) and the living room (my oasis with the small air conditioner) and that makes me lucker than, oh, 95% of the population. I can’t complain.
But I will. Because if you do something well, you should do it often. So for now I’ll sit and write and play photoshop games when I should be knitting and designing, and drink many iced coffees. I like my coffee like I like my men, cool, tall and very pale… And that makes me think – does anyone besides me refuse to order coffee in faux Italian at Starbucks on principle?
– “I’d like a Large iced coffee…”
The barista furrows their brow and has to stop and translate (as if English is a foreign concept)
– “You mean Vente?”
– “Yeah. Large.”
New Office
So here’s my new office. To many of you it may seem a step down (11 steps to be exact, it’s in the basement) and although it’s dingy and the walls are dank, the Pixar posters make life worthwhile!
Here’s where my yarn and books are now (formerly my office, but it was too hot in the summer and too cold in the winter)
Which, of course, frees up our Dining room to be a – well – a DINING room. Now we’ll eat together. What a concept…
Back to my hot life. And I have to leave at 1:00 to pick up the kids from camp and deposit Hannah at the Library where she volunteers. Max is bringing a friend home (she called him last night – a date? At eight?) and they’ll be taking over the hole -er, basement, to watch Star Wars movies and eat popcorn. Too hot to run around with the light sabres.
Of course, in Minneapolis it’s lovely today. And at Caribou Coffee they don’t speak Italian (unless you want them to…)