Hot damn, am I ever glad to have an office this morning.
Last job I had, I was in a line of cubicles in a massive room. The heat got turned on at 9:00 on the button, so the only real heat benefit for arriving at work was that the wind was no longer right in your face. I was wearing my coat for the first hour of work. We got more warmth from people arriving and putting body heat into the air than we did from the heaters.
Now I'm in maybe a 90 square-foot room, and I'm nice and toasty at 9:10. Let's hear it for upward mobility, am I right?
Speaking of blistering cold, Laura and I got talking last night about the pella windows in the new condo. And I realized that having energy-efficient windows is a prospect that genuinely excites me. This might be inspired by the fact that (for those in warmer climes) the mighty fist of Ymir the Frost Giant is currently pounding Chicago like a heroin addict in the back room of a strip club. But still: I'm genuinely excited about energy-efficient windows.
I'd say I'm in danger of losing my edge, but I think if I'm really honest with myself, my edge has been blunted for a few years. "Hey guys! I'm the edgiest happily married thirty-something with an office and an impending mortgage that you ever did see!"
That's cool, though.
Hey, I haven't gone ahead and plugged my assorted sundries in a while, have I? Well, there's actually plot going on in
The Political Machine. So you might wanna go ahead and check that out. I finished drawing the first plotline a couple days ago, and am now on the interlude between chapters one and two. I decided to make it the strangest shout-out in history by centering it around John C. Breckinridge. (Which was a specific request from Carl.) You'll see that in the new year.
Also,
my book is ready for love any old time you wanna sidle up and give it a kiss. If you order one for Christmas, I promise to say a special prayer for Bill O'Reilly, asking God to give him the strength to win the War on Baby Jesus.