Okay. We already know that the TSA thinks we're all terrorists -- so remove those shoes and don't you dare sass us about those sippy cups for your toddlers. And we are limited to how many individual real Sudafed pills we're allowed to buy in a month -- because it has nothing to do with sinuses or allergies, but because we must all want to use it to make meth. Now we're a nation of huffers.
I was at an Office Max in Holland MI today, buying among other things a shrink-wrapped two-pack of canned air. I dislike using canned air, but it is effective in cleaning certain things and I just discovered it does a wonder in clearing the air filter in our A.C. unit. So I figured I needed to stock up.
And I had to show a driver's license.
To prove I'm over eighteen.
(Apparently 48-year-olds never do any kind of addictive behaviors, so they're all right.)
The hot/humid weather pattern broke yesterday (Tuesday). Whew. I think perhaps that my bout of bad sleeping may be the result of my mild claustrophobia -- I like air and get anxious and overheated when I'm in a box without moving air. So I'm happier in an airplane when I can get the jet of air pouring on me from that overhead nozzle. I can't stand being in a car for even a few seconds without cracking a window open or putting the fan on. I survived the heat bath which was the 2004 Clarion workshop by aiming a 20" floor fan directly at where I slept on a mattress laid out on the floor.
So I'm surprised when I'm not comfortable being in a room where we can't open the windows at night due to the humid slog outside, and the air swirls around to my side of the bed only in fits and starts.
I should've just plugged in my little fan by the side of the bed from the start and gone to sleep.
You'd think I'd know things like this by now.
Got my first writing check of the year. Thank you, Nikki.