It was a balmy 59 degrees in my apartment this morning when I woke up. If the temperature gauge on the wall outside my bathroom and, you know, the cold hadn’t informed me of that fact, having the cat crawl into my lap and curl up like a pill bug would’ve done it. Whenever it gets too cold around her she either disappears into the covers of my bed or — if she’s in the mood to hang out — uses my lap as a personal heater. The colder it is, the tighter she winds up.
As it is, for the life of me I cannot bear to turn the heat on, even with this downturn in the weather. Last week I discovered that my AC is broken again (I came home to a stifling 79 degrees in my apartment–it was definitely in the 80s up in the loftice where the heat rises), and since the warm weather is going to inevitably come back before apartment maintenance does, I can’t stand the thought of letting all that cold go to waste. I will either be relieved by tomorrow’s weather (in the 70s, if the weather forecast is to be believed), or it will kill me now that I’m used to the frigid air in here.
In the meantime, I find this endlessly funny:
Like, way more than I should. But when I discovered that chocolate chip muffins weren’t quite as good as I was anticipating, there was little choice but to eat the tops off of every single one of the remaining ten (I threw one away before I realized seeing them all lined up like this might be hilarious; it took a few days to get there, but I was right). It’s just…you hate good muffin tops to go to waste. Urgh, inadvertent pun, but I can’t back away now: you hate good muffin tops to go to waist. But that’s exactly where they go.