Tuesday, January 7, 2014

I almost lost my feet

In the words of the wise Counting Crows, "You don't know what you got 'til it's gone."  And it's true; you should appreciate the little things.  Like climate control.  And feeling in your feet.

I don't normally post on Tuesdays but I had a lot of free time yesterday while I was hanging out in a spaceship.  You think that's a joke but maybe it wasn't.  I could have very possibly been in outer space yesterday and I wouldn't have known the difference.

I always wondered about the people who seem to think that social media had decided that they alone are in charge of letting us know what's going on outside.  You know, the girl who always has to post a picture of the snow and then reiterate five times that it is indeed snowing.

Well, I get it now.  Because when it's -15 degrees outside and you're stuck in the bathroom (the warmest room in your apartment) with your feet under the radiator... there's not a whole heck of a lot to do besides tweet about it.

And that's literally where I was for a good part of yesterday.  I know, I know: what is this, the 1920's?  Don't I have heat in my apartment?

Well actually it is sort of like the 1920's.  At least according to my building which was built in 1919.  I guess they were a bit too preoccupied with world wars or reading the Great Gatsby or something to care about things like insulation.

But I can't blame this entirely on Scotty (Fitzgerald, that is).  If you've been reading long enough, you might remember that crazy girl moaning about how hot it was in Chicago and how there was no cross breeze in her room and how she had to spend a few hundred bucks on a window AC unit and cart it across town in a Bed Bath & Beyond shopping cart.

I curse that day.  And I curse the day that I ignored the email from my property management advising us to remove any window AC units.  Who's got time for that, I said.  Who cares, I wondered.

I CARE.  The future Nicole who is sitting under five blankets trying to shield herself from the brisk -45 degree draft that the un-insulated window is letting in.  I should have thought about her when I clicking "delete all" in my inbox.

I won't get into the pitiful details of yesterday's events but I'll just say that at my lowest point, I was Google-ing frostbite on my phone (in between previously mentioned tweets) and considering how many toes I could lose before I'd need a wheelchair.

It's a strange feeling, wondering if you are going to lose an appendage.  You go through distinct cycles of panic, then grief, then acceptance, and then you just thank God that you already know how to count to twenty.  It's an even stranger feeling when you get on a treadmill and feel the blood rush back to your feet after two miles.  It's like life is slowly making it's way back through your bloodstream and it burns.  It burns so good.

I'm just rambling now.  I probably should have stuck with not posting on Tuesday but I've been trapped on Pluto all day, alone in this apartment, massaging my pinky toe.

I'll be back tomorrow with something more legitimate.

And in case you didn't notice: I put a little "advertise" spot up there on my header.  Get it while it's hot, people.  Or something.

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