The Big Yellow One is the Sun

Every so often I get an idea that is immediately followed by a premonition. These visions usually involve the future me leaving an audience spellbound with a witty anecdote that begins with the phrase, “Oh and then one time I thought it would be a good idea to (insert idea here).” (I really wanted to write this in the form of a question, but I couldn’t get the sentence structure to fit together in such a way as to avoid the readers’ heads exploding upon intake.)

Today’s example came about during my drive home for lunch. It is gorgeous outside today, so I drove home with the sunroof open and the windows down in lieu of using the a/c. It was so nice that I thought...“You know, Colorado has it figured out. We don’t have an a/c in our house, so maybe I’ll just stop using the one in my car as well.” By the end of my six-block commute, the top of my head was nice and toasty. Before I turned the car off I glanced down at the temperature...sixty eight degrees.

“Really, only 68? Hmm...I guess I didn’t take into account our proximity to the sun...” BAM. VISION.

Me, mid-July, driving with the windows down, sweating and bemoaning my thoughtlessness and the pride that’s caused me to stick to my resolution like a gold digger on Kanye, followed by an even further-into-the-future me at some swanky party recounting that one miserable summer I decided to be a hippie, which of course is met by laughs from everyone listening, including a talent agent who says to me, “Hey, you’re funny. You are without a doubt the funniest woman I’ve ever encountered, and I’d like to offer you a 20 million dollar a year deal. All you have to do is come to all my parties and pretend you’re just another guest who happens to be hilarious so that everyone else at the party will realize that I am the greatest for having such witty (and not to mention good looking) friends,” at which point I have to cut him off and decline the offer because that scummy sleaze hit on me and I am still happily married to the best looking man I’ve ever met, who along with our five strapping young sons (You may well be wondering, 5 sons and still such a great figure? I can’t explain it; some of us are just naturally hotter than others.) will now be forced to avenge me.

So to spare Gary, Hunter, Walker, Fisher, Rider and Chuck Norris Gray the trouble of pummeling some cocky young talent agent, I’ve decided to go ahead and use my air conditioning this summer.