I hate cheerleaders. Okay, fine. “Hate” is a little strong. I have a general dislike for cheerleaders. Then again, I’m not here to talk pep squad… except that I am here to throw my own voice into the “Rah! Rah! Yay EARTH!” chorus… which indirectly makes me a cheerleader for the planet and, though I adore the planet, I hate (No, really. Hate.) that particular association. I should delete this whole paragraph. Mmmm… nah. This is me, people. I’m always like this.
You want to know something even more disturbing? Not only am I not here to discuss cheerleading, I’m not really here to talk about global warming either… or how Mother Earth is supremely pissed at humanity… or how desperately I want to hug Leonardo DiCaprio because he cares about my Mt. Kilimanjaro and is using his fame for good. Like I need an ecological excuse to want to hug the new, improved, super sexy, manly Leo… but I digress. Again.
My point is this: I’m damn cold.
Shall I connect the dots before the grey matter within my noggin’ runs amok again?
I love this planet.
I believe in global warming.
I’m a cheerleader for all things “recycle”, “green”, and “make a change”.
(Funny how there is always a “but”, huh?!)
…I am, and will always be, a complete and absolute failure at water conservation. I have lived where periods of mandatory reduction of water usage was dictated... necessary… where the water supply was cut off throughout the city for all but one or two hours a day. Pardon me while I shudder at the memories.
But, now, I live in a first world country that I sometimes loathe. A country that, for all its faults, provides me with a seemingly endless supply of clean water. It’s a crime that millions of people on this planet have no clean water or any water… when our planet IS water. This is the part where I tell the rest of you to conserve all the water you possibly can… so that there is always enough for me. I know. I’m a terrible person. I won’t be winning a humanitarian award
I love it.
I love water inside my body. I cherish the sweet nectar that is a tall glass of freezing cold water laden with a mountain of ice cubes. Oh, how I love ice. Crushed ice. Yep, I’m a crushed ice cruncher. Make of that what you will. I may never leave my current job simply because the greatest crushed ice maker in the world (slight exaggeration) is located there.
I love water on my body. I want to live near the ocean and dive in it daily. I like to play in streams, rivers (sans carnivorous reptiles, hungry hungry hippos or elephant poop), waterfalls, swimming pools, fountains and even lakes… although lake and pond waters are my least favorite forms of the substance of life. Followed by snow. I really, really hate snow. It snowed this week. I was in hell. A cold, hard hell. Oh, and tears. I find tears are decidedly not in my favor. There is a reason “tear” is a homonym. “That salty substance pouring out of your eyeballs” often has a lot to do with “that ripping sound coming from the organ in your chest”. (Don’t mind me. Digressing again.)
I adore showers and baths. Long showers. Full baths. Scalding hot water. Once, twice… multiple times a day. I shower to get clean. I read in the shower. I sleep in the shower. I bathe to relax. I shower or bathe post-workout. I shower to escape my children. I bathe to get warm. Oh, yes… my point.
Remember my point? Up at the top. Below the babble. Well, below the really out-of-control babble. Whatever. “I’m damn cold.”
Every winter I find myself wishing I was a tropical mermaid (Distinction needed. Have you seen those uber-cold loch water, nasty Harry Potter mermaids?) living in the “Great Blue Hole". (Click the link. It isn’t anything naughty. I swear.) Then I wonder if mermaids suffer from dry skin. On their top halves, that is… not the scales. I might as well have scales because my skin positively hates (no exaggeration) me right now.
Yes, now. I should probably mention here that I’m in the bathtub. Now. Yep. I got in here specifically to get warm... hence the topic inspiration. No, I’m not a chronically cold-natured person. My equatorial blood simply cannot handle northern hemisphere winter. Yes, I have the computer with me. Sort of. In my small ass apartment the toilet is close enough for me to sit in the bath and type on the laptop sitting atop the toilet seat.
Sometimes I put it on the edge anyway.
One day it will fall in.
I’ll be super warm that day.
Then the cheerleaders can laugh at me.