Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Monday, December 12, 2011

All's Well When My End's Well

Whew! I seem to have dodged a major health crisis.

This morning, I rushed to the car and hauled my butt to school for a.m. parking lot duty. The temperature in my neck of the woods was 24 degrees. No big deal. Mornings are always cold out here in Backroads. That's why I have a car with seat heaters. A better invention was never invented than seat heaters. I'll stack them up against sliced bread any day. Except maybe on grilled cheese days in the school cafeteria, because seat heaters are not nearly as greasy and crunchy as those baked grilled cheese sandwiches. Don't ask me how I know.

So there I was, driving to work, seat heater a-blazin' on all three cylinders, or whatever you want to call those little orange lights that show how much and what area your heat is a-blazin'. Orange. Get it? Like a flame. Fire. HEAT!

Except I didn't feel the warmth. My buns were not toasting. Every other cold morning for the past four years that I've driven my hot-seated Tahoe, my cheeks have been burning by the time I drop The Pony off at his building. Sometimes, I have even turned off the seat heater! But not this morning. I reached my hand around behind my back. I could feel warmth on the leather with my palm. But not so in my nether regions. I was left to face the grim conclusion:


Duty called, so I could not rush myself to the emergency room for a professional evaluation. I unlocked my classroom, logged on five times for maximum access in my control center, and grabbed two coats to insulate myself from the elements. That's the only way to go, you know. You wear one coat, and put the other one on backwards. Pull it over your arms so it completely covers your chest and lap and gives you a little face mask if you bury your nose in the collar. Short of a Forever Lazy, the front coat/back coat style is the epitome of a.m. parking lot duty comfort.

When I sat down on the 24-degree concrete slab by the locker rooms, I made a startling discovery.


Such a happy ending to what could have been a tale of woe.


Linda O'Connell said...

ha ha ha I can't stop laughing! And no, that was not the same little sugar plum fairy who made it to Anderson Cooper's ridiculist.

Val Thevictorian said...

Good to know that your festival was not harboring a potty-mouthed sugar plum fairy.

Also good to know that you find pleasure in my faux self-diagnosis of dead butt syndrome.

BECKY said...

OMG! I love your writing!

Val Thevictorian said...

Thanks so much! I will bare my butt issues for you any time. Because I'm selfless like that.