I Can't Come in to Work Today. I'm Cold and My Sweater Is See-Through.

I generally have the body temperature of a margarita at a Siberian ski lodge, and this has caused some issues with my boyfriend, who would, as he says, “sweat naked in a snowstorm,” or, as I have come to learn, thinks the radiators are just for decoration and persistently has our A/C set to “Meat Locker.” On the bright side, we can store our frozen goods right on the couch, which is great for late night Netflix binges when the only movement we’ve had in the last six hours is to shift our atrophying bodies to alleviate bed sores, chisel frozen tears off our faces (sports documentaries, though) and reach our (well, my) weak, shivering hands through the frigid air to the towering stack of freezer-burned food on the coffee table to half-heartedly fight over the last pint of rock-solid Chunky Monkey. We threw our refrigerator out due to redundancy.

Air conditioning is too cold for me. In order to avoid slowly slipping into the icy throes of hypothermia and thereby filing the world’s most laughable OSHA complaint, I enter my office mid-summer, wrap myself up in a cardigan, and set the space heater under my desk to eighty degrees, so I’m content in my little tropical pocket of happiness, but walking up to my desk for human people is like Backdraft, if Backdraft was set in a tech office with more pointless emails and fewer murders. My purse always has a “Bar Sweater” in it, because bars are colder than Kanye West at The Grammies and women’s clothing is ostensibly made of tissues. Girl tops generally have two settings: “Chunky, oversized mom sweater you could use to insulate an army fort” and “Gauze”, the latter being entirely transparent and requiring an under-layer, lest you go cosmic bowling and the black light makes your white bra glow through the doily you thought was a good idea to wear in public and you end up continually flashing an alley-full of families and snotty youths for two hours until you realize that cat hair also glows under black light and decide to give up on life and become a hermit or nun or Jamiroquai groupie. That is a thing that can happen. So I have heard. It is a thing that could happen to someone.

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