When I was home in Indiana for our wedding reception this weekend I ran into my good pal Bob. He’s been an avid reader of my blog for some time now, but he had a complaint. It seems that since Sarah and I have fallen for each other, my blogs have gone a little soft and become quite mushy.
I agree with Bob. Not that I mind the tone of my more recent blogs because, like the blogs before them, they are true to heart and reflect what was–and is–on my mind. But I am indeed aware that as a result, the humor and sarcasm seem to have taken a back seat.
I promised Bob that when I returned to PA I would make it up to him, even naming my next post “A Blog for Bob.” I promised him a return of the humor he has come to look forward to (and subsequently miss).
I honestly thought about this during much of the drive back home from Indiana. As Sarah slept in the passenger seat beside me, I found myself wondering just what on earth I was going to blog about. Many of my more humorous blogs aren’t necessarily me coming up with a silly idea; they’re usually me reacting to an odd situation I’ve found myself in.
And I guess that’s the problem. I haven’t found myself in any weird or I-Can’t-Believe-This-Is-Happening circumstances as of late. Or at least not that I can think of.
But now that I think of it, it IS really cold in my office. There are two ceiling vents that seem to blow air direct from the Arctic Circle and onto me on a regular basis. It’s not as bad in the summer time because at least I can step outside to thaw out the icicles that have formed on my nose and/or ear lobes.
I mentioned this to someone here at work and was told there is nothing that can be done about it. The vents always blow cold air, always have and always will. The odd thing about it is that mine is the only area that seems to be this cold all the time. Part of me hopes my office is haunted. I want to fight a ghost.
The cold air hasn’t stopped despite the fact that the weather has taken a chilly turn. I actually thought it would let up when the temperature dropped, but no such luck. Today I found myself balanced on a chair, taping two folders (that I had already taped together) to the vent directly above me in an attempt to divert the constant breeze that is blowing down my back.
It seems to have worked. For now. Either that, or the air has stopped blowing. Either way, I’m still hoping to fight a ghost. That would be cool.
So there you go, Bob. This entry probably won’t end up being printed in The New Yorker or even Cracked magazine but if you’ve made it this far then chances are I’m on the right track to Ha-Ha Town.