I am supposed to be in Florida right now. Right now, do you hear me?! I am not. I am instead martyring myself for my job. A big, giant February deadline looms, and I have to pretend to be an adult and stick around and see that all the work gets done and possibly even do some of it myself. But every time I put on another layer, or see my hat-head and bright red nose in the mirror after I come in from the cold, I just want to cry.
So, I am going to change into this $14 Lucky tank that reminds me so much of every childhood summer I spent in Delray Beach, home of shuffleboard and clubhouse card games. I will turn up the heat fill the the bathroom with steam and pretend to work on that elusive perfect tan that anybody else with my utter lack of melanin would have given up on at around age 7 but that I somehow still think is almost within reach.
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