Heat Wave

It was twelve degrees when I walked outside this morning.

Twelve.

I shrieked like an adolescent girl at a Hansen concert and ran back inside to cower in the warmth for just a bit longer before forging ahead into the dark and frozen winter wasteland that is Kansas City.

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(at twelve degrees)

Trying to whistle a happy tune but only making a horrifying blowing noise with steam flowing out of my mouth like a ketchup packet filled with stale air and mucus being slowly driven over, I made my way to the truck.

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Have I mentioned that it was twelve degrees?

Even the truck protested at being awakened in the frigid morning. If an inanimate object can fake emphysema, my truck has it. Having been a daily chain smoker for 11 years now, it wheezes in the morning while coughing like a career coal miner with three pack a day unfiltered Lucky Strike habit.

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I have to admit that while feeling completely asinine for donning a swimsuit in order to immerse myself in water this morning, it was really nice getting in the pool. Pausing between laps to discuss our respective Christmases, the Aqua-Ettes and I were feeling pretty good doing our laps and listening to the oldies station (although I do find it disconcerting that the oldies are now ye olde Duran Duran and the timeless classics by Depeche Mode).

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Having let the shower warm up for approximately 40 minutes I hopped in, climbed the ice waterfall that had formed at the shower head and scrubbed myself in record time.

Looking down at the pride and joy I realized that the goods were missing.
I was as smooth as a JC Penny’s mannequin (one less thing to do my thinking for me…)

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Disregarding my lack of manhood (who needs it) I ventured back to the parking lot and drove my wheezing and smoking coal miner back to the house.

Ps. Eleven degrees by then. Mother Nature can suck it.

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