BLOG TO SELF

Dear Future-Hot-Self,
This is Present-Day-Cold-self here. I know this crooked floored places is usually unbearably toasty, but today its cold and I think we may want to remember that. Now that the early spring has reverted back to its old "I'll get there when I get there" ways, and the furnace is off, I have one thing to say at it "brrrr".

Remember the winter? All that dry heat pouring through the afore mentioned crooked floor, flying past us as we went about our day. The way you pranced around in a tank top and shorts, windows open singing Beach boy tunes..? I could use a little of that this morning. I'm freezing. I wish I had Bill Cosby's sweaters.
Oh, and Future-Hot-Self, we could use a few more pairs of socks.I put some laundry on yesterday and have only yesterdays-socks to keep me from frost-bite.
FHS, can you recall the summer? The muggy, sticky, every-thing-smells-like-Labrador-Retriever days of summer? Sneaking out to the roof at 4:00 for a breeze? Believe it or not, I long for that right now. Last night I had to pull my bra out of my sleeve and do the two-second t-shirt switch. Now is not the time to have nipples.

Well, I gotta fly. There is a hot shower to be had and the cold agony that follows. A month from now, when the temperature of this place reaches a bizillion degrees. you'll be peeling yourself off the sheets for a cold bath. Think of me then old friend.

Anyhow, Present-Day-Frumpy-Self is sitting here in an old painting sweater and she wants to say somethings to Future-Sexy-Self (copycat!) so I'd better go.

Sincerely
PDCS.

You Have My Heart...

...and the last role of toilet paper.
But thanks for the warning.
It proves I raised you well.

Only a jungle animal would go into someones apartment, steal the last role of T.P and not leave reference to in small print on a south Park-esque cartoon depiction she did of her mom destroying the world with a hippy guitar powers.
See, not everyone is as thoughtful as you. Some brats would just take the T.P and run. And granted, the stores were closed by the time I got home, but that is neither here nor there. The point is- you let me know. And that makes me feel like I've done a good job raising you. So, when you and your punk-rock friends are out tagging the town or what ever it is you do, or next time you are getting a tattoo with your grocery money, you can sit back and be proud of yourself for this proud moment of "I took the toilet paper and let you know".

I love you. You are awesome. I hope you enjoy your new apartment. don't go out alone after dark and please lock the doors.
Now, is there something you'd like to tell me about my diminished towel supply?