And all through the warehouse
Boxes are everywhere
And probably a stray mouse
The agencies will be here
To pick up their presents
So Christmas will come
To those who have less
The high today will be 22 degrees. There is snow and ice on the ground. Our temporary 90,000-square-foot warehouse is not heated and Kim has just texted me that she and Betsy agree that it’s time to buy a space heater. Weenies.
It’s the day before the Christmas Giveaway and there are still piles to be put together for the almost 80 agencies that will pick up tomorrow so their clients can have something in their stockings Christmas morning. This is absolutely the best week of the holiday season for me.
But let’s get back to this space heater issue. Last winter, when it was just Betsy and me in our own warehouse I let her lips turn blue before I cut on the heat. I mean, I gave the girl some long underwear. Just buck up. I had thought Kim was a little tougher. Here they are. The two conspirators in our luxurious warehouse offices. Bundled up in their winter coats. Plotting. Plotting to get a space heater that will emit a twizzle of warmth that will immediately float up to the top of the 14-foot ceiling. I’m just saying.
It’s not that I’m cheap, which I am. I am standing on principle. The principle of discomfort. The principle that a $39 space heater will not make them appreciably warmer. And I realize that I am digging my own very cold grave because should this paltry space heater emit even a smidgen of warmth those two will not share it with me.
No room around our plastic desk table for the executive director. Guess I’ll have to get some thicker thermal socks.