Ongoing Thermostat War

Another sweltering day in a gray-and-pink, seventy-five degree hell. My only thoughts are of turning down the thermostat. Every time I begin to develop a thought, the heat prickle on my forehead tells me it’s time to attack the thermostat again.

Even worse, the dolt in the cubicle next to me keeps muttering lyrics to some song with a “Boom-chakalaka” refrain. Quite often these days the dead look like appealing alternatives to the living.