Hey, do you all remember my poor coworker from this post?
You know – the one I basically called a hooker?
Well, she has her own office in the building, just like me.
Unfortunately for her, unlike me my fancy-schmancy office, she does not have her own personal thermostat.
When I walk into my office early in the morning, I crank up the heater, and five minutes later I’m nice and toasty.
Because, you know, it’s just absolutely frigid down here in Southern California. I mean, sometimes I actually have to hold my Starbucks without the insulated coffee sleeve to warm my hands.
Can I hear an Amen out there?
It’s okay, don’t feel sorry for me. I’m a survivor.
Anyways, on those chilly mornings, while I am in my nice, toasty office with my personal heater, my poor coworker is freezing. I have no idea why her office is a good twenty degrees colder than the rest of the office, but it is. Maybe her heater vent is shut off. Maybe it faces on the wrong side of the building. Maybe it’s haunted by an ice spirit. Like I said, I don’t know what it’s so cold, but it is cold. Very cold. As in, I’m-not-actually-being-a-weenie-it’s-legitimately-cold COLD.
To make matters worse, while I have accumulated a nice, thick, totally attractive layer of
pregnancy ….. post baby …. fashionably curvy ….winter fat to keep me warm, my coworker is a tiny little thing. She’s all bones, and sinew, and lean muscle…. which doesn’t help her stay warm at all.
Anyways, earlier this week I walked in to hand her some mail and saw her huddled miserably in front of her computer, rubbing her hands briskly together in an effort to stave off hypothermia.
I had just finished a brisk walk around the office, and coupled with the fact that I had worn a sweater and had accidentally set my personal thermostat too high, I was warm. As in, hot.
“Wow, you look cold.”
She nodded miserably, chafing her hands together a little faster before reaching out to grab the mail.
Our hands touched briefly – or rather, I should say my hand met her tiny little ice blocks she carried on the ends of her wrist. I’ve touched snowballs with more heat in them.
“Oh, WOW. You are really cold.” I reached forward and grabbed her hands in mine, trying to share some of my warmth with her.
“Oh, wow…” She breathed. “You feel so good.”
I couldn’t help myself. I mean, you would have done the same, right?
“That’s what she said!” I boomed, without thinking.
We both stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment, unsure what to say next, both feeling incredibly awkward about the fact that I was standing there, intimately cupping her hands in my own.
“Well, yeah, uh, I’ve got, uh… work. Ha. You know?” I dropped her hands and raced back to my office.
Who signed off on letting me out in public?
Seriously, whoever was manning quality control on that particular day really needs to be fired.