Have Heater, Will Tavel

      There are not enough words to explain my bitter feelings toward cold air.
      In order to even begin to type, I had to bring a space heater with me, into the kitchen.
      I thrive on direct heat.
      Today, in not so hot, Atlanta, Georgia, it is raw, glacial, numbing, piercing, biting, frigid, Siberian COLD.
      I have drawn the drapes, and thrown in the towel.
      Late Winter yucks have jumped on me, with a smile on its face.
      So I decided to write.
      I sit here, waiting for a fence man, to come build us a new backyard fence. He is coming to view the property and give me some estimates. I hope he does not expect me, to follow him into the backyard, to show him, what I need done. Just in case the cold has snapped his brain, I drew him a picture and left my email address on the paper, and he will quickly find out, that I will not be joining him. Nor will I be opening the door again, he can wave, leave and email me the cost.
     I will have to spend a few minutes with him, to explain my situation.
     Growing up in Florida, married some man from New York, lived in Pennsylvania, bought a coat because I had to, and finally moved to Atlanta.
      I will tell him, that I have clothes claustrophobia, and will not layer, whatever does that mean?
      Later , he will hear stories of my skin burning and itching, if the temperature reads in the sixties.
      When I answer the door, with the space heater in my hand, he will probably have a clue.
      That is why, I will have to talk quickly and explain.
      ( Do serial killers carry space heaters? I don't want this man to freak!)
  
     Yesterday, I took the car to have the oil changed, in this Polar Vortex.
      I pulled up to the door, and ran inside. The sweet man, said, " Where are the keys?"
     ( I thought it was an odd question) I pointed, " They are in the car?"
      He then spoke softly, " Can you bring them to me?"
      Astonished I, " No, it's too cold, and the car is warm for you. I will not be returning to the car, until you are finished and leave it warm for me. Thank you so very much. The End"
   
      I do not play in this weather, and it makes me a little sassy.
      I read my book, and much later my repairman person came to tell me my car was ready, and he had pulled it so close to the door, I could just scoot into the car. We both smiled, we were both happy. I was warm, and he had done a good job for this young lady.
     Now if I can just get the fence man to be understanding.
     How long is this cold snap?
     It is just so tiring, and takes sooooo much explanation!!!!
     Stay warm!