I don’t have headphones today.  I’ve been here for hours and I’m ready to pass out.  The soporific din of the ventilation system and workstations are causing me to fidget in my chair.  The unheard cries of unplayed podcasts are calling out to me.  While attempting to surreptitiously listen in, huddled near the macbook’s speakers; all ambient chatter that would keep me safe from non-podcast listeners, ceased.

I am now plotting a quick purchase of head phones during my lunch hour.  Turned my attentions to reviews on C|Net and have poured myself another cup of coffee to keep awake, I am determined.  Sure, I should be tending to customers but the bulk of my communication is through text chat and e-mail, a scarcely engaging medium.  I need my narrowly scoped, nerdily accented, exciting-because-it’s-not-my-life-we’re-talking-about podcasts to get through the day.

We’ve put off Christmas with Snuffy’s family until today. The trials of buying a house, Las Vegas, two terrible colds, and furnishing the house was enough to push gift exchange and overeating off of our docket. Yesterday, Snuffy buffed and polished surfaces while I tried to stay out of his way.

So, as I lay in bed and I hear the coffee percolating (yeah, stole the drip/filter coffee maker from mom and dad) I shouted to Snuff, “What’s for breakfast”. Seeing a fleeing shadow holding a cup of coffee descend the staircase to the basement, I believe I heard “Nothing, I cleaned the stove and I don’t want to mess it up.” My boyfriend, with all of his non-Virgo traits, has to be neat and organized.  I hope our guests appreciate all of his cleaning.

I whipped up a fish taco with the things that we had in the fridge, begrudgingly using the microwave. If it weren’t so friggin cold out here, I’d build myself a dirty kitchen in the back yard.

How is it possible that my skin feels so dry, yet look so oily. Winter winds and dry air have wicked moisture from my face. As a tropical breed that has been made hearty with years of living in a continental climate, I have adapted to the seasons but only with lots of care.

Rich emollients that aren’t greasy are necessary for my face. Home-rendered coconut oil is used for the ashy joints, torso, thighs and calves for that glistening “just burnished male stripper” look. Burn-victim grade salve is used for my dry heels and feet.

The applied moisturizers and all the glasses of water don’t seem to be enough. Sometimes I wish to spend winter months somewhere warm so my pores can exude sebum and give me a healthy well-lubricated glow. Alas I am here, desiccating along with the other tropical transplants, bundled up and waiting for the warmer weather.