It's June in Sacramento Valley. Nearly July, in fact.
It's nearly July in the Sacramento Valley and I'm wearing long pants and a flannel shirt. And I'm still cold and considering another layer. What's wrong with this picture?
Well, I'm at work of course. The AC vent over my desk is whistling along merrily and the overhead fluorescent lights are twitching along in time with the song and I'm at my desk slowing shriveling up and bleaching in cumulative response.
Heaven forbid we open a window.
It's not that hot outside. Thanks to el nino (and probably global warming) it's been a weird year around here. I don't think we've hit 100 degree once yet. And we've even had rain (rain?) in June. Right now it's a lovely 72 degrees outside. At my desk I'd guess it's 58 degrees with the wind chill factor.
Our office building is a U-shaped structure which may be inconvenient in some respects but a big fat plus is that every office has a door or a window that opens, complete with screens. The windows and doors open up to a backyard with birds chirping in the trees. Inside I'm listening to servers hum, buttoning up my flannel, wishing for ear muffs and mittens.
This is not healthy.
I hear an office buzz going around about some kind of retreat in the works. One of those teamwork building events. I walked into the business office this morning to hear ideas batted around. "What about a sailing cruise for a day?" someone proposed. I announced that if it was a pirate ship and we could mutiny and push our boss off the plank, then I'm game, but otherwise, if it's not on a weekday and I don't get paid to do it, I'm not going. They chuckled and I raised an eyebrow and thought to myself, You seem to think I jest. I've got a pirate hat and sword sitting by my bed just waiting for a useful application. You people are all nuts and I hang out with you plenty. The best way for me to work better with you is if I don't see you for extended periods of time. And if it's Monday and you're already driving me nuts, this is a bad sign.
And boy, is it ever a Monday.
Not much to be done about it, I'm afraid. I'll just put on my headphones, cue up the Pirates of the Caribbean soundtrack, and dream about my own pirate ship, the Neverland. She's a small ship, but sea-worthy. The captain's quarters are cozy and full of my favorite books. My maps tables are full of maps of places that I want to go. My crew is full of faithful men and women who cook me Italian cream pasta and say "Arrrrrr" a lot. No meetings. You can climb the riggings on a lovely 72-degree day and smell the sea wind, or swing out on a rope and splash in the ocean for a swim. And of course she's got a nice sturdy plank for people who are overly fond of air-conditioners and phrases like, "There is no 'I' in 'team.'"