So I decided to write about another thing that I like that I know at least one other person doesn't like (poor Dr. M). Please note: this poem is totally tongue-in-cheek; however, the sentiments expressed herein are absolutely true.
How warm is
too warm,
really?
A Bug at rest
likes to bake
until she is
just this side
of dry roasted.
Ah, glorious heat…
A Bug not at rest
requires a sudden
cessation of warmth.
A fan, perhaps?
Or open the door?
Let's turn on the air!
Get right on that Dr. M
would you please?
You are too funny!
ReplyDeleteso cute!
ReplyDeletesounds like Herself - in the winter its too cold, in the summer its too hot. Sometimes we stand by the fridge door for hours trying to get her to the right temperature...
ReplyDeleteok, so that last bit wasn't true, but i do like the pome
Yes, get on that right away!
ReplyDeleteDear The Bug,
ReplyDeleteI'm with you! My poor cats want to escape the boiler of my condo unit.
They have been rescued by the downing of Boiler # 3, and the air-hammer noise resulting from over-use of Boiler # 2. I can't wait until I don't have to boil water in my kitchen in order to get the Louisiana-like heat/humidity so necessary to winter survival!
LOL,
Ann T.
Couldn't have put it better myself!!
ReplyDeleteHehe, poor old Dr M, having to put up with all the changes in temperature. Fun poem, though.
ReplyDeleteI don't like grapefruit either, but there is a sort of grapefruit, 'pomelo', which has a wonderful sweet-bitter juice. You should try it.
ReplyDeleteYou should bring a photo of yourself with any new post. You look nice.
Heat! well- on my back from the wood stove-hot showers- however I do like contrast too. Nice thanks.
ReplyDeleteOoh! Me too, me too! Except not outside in the sun.
ReplyDeleteOh, I can totally relate. Shawl on, shawl off. In the covers, out of the covers. I can say it's easier to add clothing, and I do so hate to sweat.
ReplyDeleteHa! Very cute.
ReplyDeleteI hate the heat and love the cold, or at least low humidity and low 70s. Anything above the 70s is too much for me.
Very cute poem.
Give me winter over the dead heats of summer, any day!
ReplyDeleteAren't we lucky to have men to do our bidding when we call?
Kat
I think of my blood as delicate in its sensitivity to cold. Like a flower, right? Yeah, that's it. A flower. Turn up the heat, darling! Your fragile flower is chilled!
ReplyDeleteToo true!
ReplyDeleteI went out with a guy for a while whose comfy temperature range didn't even overlap mine. Not the least little bit. War!