What Gale Through Yonder Window Blows?

You thought it would be a nice idea to get some fresh air while you slept, so you left the window open last night. At approximately 2:35 A.M. an artic cold front swept down and noisily set up shop in your bedroom. At 3:11 A.M. an icy blast knocked a cherished framed photograph off the dresser; you woke up, observed the curtains blowing straight into the room, pulled the blankets tightly over your head, and, knowing you would pay later, went back to sleep. It is now later. Your alarm clock is ringing. The temperature in your room is 19 degrees Farenheit (-7.2 degrees celcius). Your rigid form clings to a patch of warmth which through some thermodynamic fluke is narrower than you are. You urgently have to go to the bathroom. Movement, even the thought of movement, is agony. It is time to greet the day.

1. With lizard quickness, dart your hand out from under the pillow and turn off the alarm. Your finger will stick to the metal shut-off device. Rip your finger away and bring it back under your chest. Whimper like a little baby.

2. Bring the blanket down to the bridge of your nose and peek out into the room. What you once thought was a comfortable lair has become hostile, alien territory. Wonder why the fool of an architect put the bathroom way over there. Consider it likely that the fool of an architect now lives in Florida. Put your head back under the covers.

3. Spend time considering inventions that could save you from such discomfort - and make you a millionaire. Perhaps a remote control switch that would turn on the hot water in the shower and fill the house with steam. Think about what you could do with the money. Would you give some away to charity? If so, what charity? What kind of car would you buy? What color? Debate these points. Doze.

4. Alarm goes off again. Climb back to consciousness from a sun-splotched reverie and repeat Step 1, using a different finger. Curse yourself for buy such an alarm clock. Consider that your boss probably is not cowering in bed right now, is probably on the way to work, humming happily. That's why you're not the boss. Curse society.

5. Time to stop the foolish stalling. You've known all along that a warm robe is draped over the back of a chair, but that is just out of reach. Luckily, however, as you stare at the floor thinking of nothing in particular you notice that the wind has blown down a set of curtains and a curtain rod that is in reach. Make dim, apelike calculations. Then use the curtain rod as an extension of the human arm to secure the robe and hoist it to the bed. Rest.

6. Sit up under the blankets, making a crude tent. With a brisk set of thrashing motions, put on the robe. Do not sacrifice proper precedure for speed, however. Undue haste may result in a tangled mess in which you drag all the bedding into the bathroom with you.

7. From the depths of your woolen igloo, think of a particularly high note from any song you know. (The note on the word glare in "The Star-Spangled Banner" would be good for this.) Slowly rise from your crouching position, singing the high note. The higher you rise, the louder you sing. At length, you are standing on your bed, screaming.

8. Fling off the blankets, jump off the bed, and "GLLLAAAAARRRE!!" your way into the bathroom, running at top running-in-the-house speed. Turn on the hot water, strip while running in place, jump in, stop singing.

9. It is while you are at last luxuriating in the steamy clouds that you will remember all your clothes are back in the bedroom and the window is still open. Immediately put this thought out of mind. Lather up. Close your eyes. Think of a broad expanse of beach, a tropical beach, big brown eyes. Doze.

---

Back to The Neurotic's Autumn/Fall