That's it. I cannot take it any longer.
Today, I turned on my heat.
I haven't taken that specific action since some time in either 1999 or 2000.
I was on the phone with some scheduling or producer dude from Fox, shivering as I answered his questions.
Even though I was wearing a sweater and jeans. And a jacket.
So I gave in. I turned on the heat, set it at 72 (which is probably too warm, right?), and bundled off to my co-favorite place in Cleveand: the West Side Market.
After perusing the produce and picking up some blackberries, blueberries, raspberries, organic greens, spinach, vine tomatoes, and some beautiful sweet peppers, I went inside. Bumped into a gal I've met a couple of times through, chatted about poetry and underground literary publishing opportunities, and then did my indoor shopping. Picked up some asiago bread, a bunch of pierogis, a couple different kinds of funky chicken sausage (feta/spinach and blue cheese/hot pepper), though I forgot the apple-cured salami atop my list.
Now I'm home, basking in the gas heat, trying not to count the pennies that are warming my skin as I enjoy a cup of delicious lobster bisque from Souper Market. Yum.
3 years ago