I burst into flames at work yesterday.
Naturally, I was against it.
My feelings on the matter, however, amounted to nothing.
I’ve accommodated said spontaneous combustion with a fan at my desk. It’s an aspect not everyone can pull off, this sweaty-faced, hair-flying-about-the-head look, and of course I’m doing it with my usual grace.
In other words, I’ve taken to sulking.
The ice floe with my name on it – the one where the Tribe sets me loose knowing that I’ve started the downward slide into old age and will soon be good for nothing but gnawing walrus pelts into pliable softness – has been spotted.
Meanwhile, friends and family wave good-naturedly and assure me that the coast is lovely.
I have, in response, taken up free-style sweating.
And looking things up online.
Turns out everyday things like getting upset or being in a warm room can set off a hot flash. The mind swirls with variations on this theme as I contemplate the return of high heat and humidity to Minneapolis and its effect on my air conditioner, a machine affectionately known as “The Yeti” as it works best when surrounded by snow.
The truth is that I don’t do “crabby” very well and can be easily joshed out of a mood.
Which, of course, is infuriating.
I’ve told my friends that should they see me becoming crabby they should hold me down and brush my hair. Oh, sure, they all claim, laughingly, that they will do this; but when push comes to shove, very few people will actually grab a brush.
Argh. I can’t believe I have to groom myself out of this mood.
33 minutes ago