It's How Many Degrees Outside?!

It's 13 flippin' degrees here in Nashvegas. THIRTEEN. With a wind chill making it feel like 6 (!!). I am not a fan. Of course I dislike it because it's flat out cold, but the big reason I don't care for freezing weather? Frozen pipes.
Yep. Frozen pipes, as in NO HOT WATER, thus resulting in a hat with some serious hair issues, bleary eyes, and an "I simply can't care today" attitude. Because I can't. Not in a hooded sweatshirt, jeans and sneakers, with a hat that was thrown on in complete desperation to hide the day-old, unwashed hair. It's not like I'm filthy (considering all I did yesterday was sit in an office, then at class, then at home), but going out in public past my front yard without a shower just feels wrong to me. I feel slower because I didn't get my wake up ritual and while I'm fairly sure I don't smell, the nagging recesses of my brain are telling me my skin is just leaking smelly residue. Logically, I know it's not. I know that while I look less than ravishing today than on any other given day, I'm still not the most hideous thing on the planet, nor do I look like I'm from the 80s or belong on Glamour's "Don'ts" page this month. But a state of mind is all it takes for me to trick myself into think I'm gross. Blah.
I met with Robin Dodd the other night and it went well; she's still working to get her business off the ground, but her goals are realistic enough to where I think with some help, she can pull it off. I'm glad to have come into contact with her and I'm hoping that it turns out to be something really great. It has the potential to teach me many things and produce great photos.
We're seeing Brian Posehn tonight at the comedy club and while I'll probably go as is and he'll smell worse than me, at least I'm fairly interested to see how funny he is on stage. After that, it's hauling back to the house to cuddle with Oliver under blankets and watch Joel McHale (and please god let him tease Ryan Seacrest mercifully over the "Bikini Girl" incident!).
It's hard to care about work today. I'm trying, but it's tough, I won't lie. I'm getting things little by little done, but as it's Friday and I'm a messy blob, I'm trying very hard to keep visions of my bed outta my daydreams. Otherwise, I'll wind up a glob of gray sweatshirt all over my desk from falling asleep. I'm quite ready for spring now, thank you.
Oliver still has yet to bark at anything. I know he's not a mute because he whines when he's annoyed at me for squeaking his toys at him too much. I don't really mind the non-barking, honestly. He's a good dog--totally potty-trained, getting more personality everyday, and just a big lovebug. He cracked me up last night because his food was in the kitchen and I was getting my Italian stuff together in the next room; he was so excited to see me and eat that he couldn't decide, so he'd slip and slide on the hardwood floors between rooms with food in his mouth. I think tomorrow I'll take him to the dog park to run off some steam, then a nice bath...assuming we have hot water of course. And if we do, I get priority before him. He may be a dog, but I need a shower way more than he does.
LC.