This morning, I rolled over and did what I do every morning. I checked my weather app to see how many limbs I was going to freeze off when I took the dogs out for their morning constitutional. This is what I saw:
I rolled over and stared at the ceiling. One of the dogs whined. “Cross your legs,” I growled. My dogs do not cross their legs. My dogs say “Screw you,” and pee on the floor so I figured I better get up. A few yellow doggie ice cubes later, and I was back in the house sipping coffee on the couch, burrowed in my Star Trek fleece blanket and wishing I was back in bed.
“It’s too cold to go anywhere. I just want to go back to bed,” I whined via text to my friend and co-worker.
“Then go back to bed,” she responded.
“I can’t. Dave already made the bed.”
“Well, I have to go to work, don’t I?”
“Look- even the cat is in silent protest with me. He’s sitting on my clothes. I can’t possibly go to work with a cat on my clothes.”
Again, no response.
“I hate all my clothes anyway. Winter is so frumpy. I feel like a stuffed sausage.”
Continued silence. Ah, my friend. You know me so well. I kept texting.
“I want to eat all the cookies and donuts in the land.”
“But noooooo! We’re all trying to be healthy! Blah, blah, blah. I’ll just eat this celery stick instead.”
“This cold celery is giving me frostbite. I’m slipping into torpor over here. You don’t even care.”
“Yum, yum, yum. Celery is soooo good! I just LOVE it! *gag*”
“I’m dying. Dying of starvation and frostbite and hypothermia but you can’t even text me back.”
“This celery needs something to spice it up. Peanut butter?”
“Bacon. Bacon is the key ingredient to celery.”
“I tried to move the cat and he bit me. Clearly another sign I must stay home from work.”
“Oh great. I ate too much celery, and my pants are tight. Thanks a lot, Obama!”
“Aaaaaand even though I wasn’t wearing this shirt when I ate the celery, I still managed to get bacon grease on it. Or maybe it’s peanut butter…not sure…”
“False alarm! It was toothpaste!”
“I hope you’re driving to work right now, and when you get there you see all these texts and feel really bad that you let me down and now I’m dead.”
“I really hate this outfit. Did I mention stuffed sausage?”
“The cat keeps staring at me. I know he’s judging me.”
“OMG. I just poked my eye with the mascara wand. BLOOD GUSHING EVERYWHERE! I’m so not coming to work.”
At this point, I threw myself on the couch and shut my eyes. I didn’t stab myself in the eye at all. I don’t even wear mascara. It makes my eyes water and I end up looking like Tammy Faye Baker. My phone buzzed. FINALLY.
“You don’t even wear mascara,” she said.
“Bitch.” I responded.
“Loser. So are you coming in to work or not?”
“Maybe. Yeah. I guess so.” I texted back.
“Bring me a donut.”
And that my friends, is how you survive winter in Wisconsin. Kind, attentive, loving friends, willing to talk you off the ledge and listen to your troubles…and donuts. Lots and lots of donuts.
Stay warm my friends!