Sever Weather for Georgia

The other night when I was lying in bed listening to my poor furnace run constantly, I wished that the buildings in Georgia had better insulation. Scratch that, I wished that the building had any insulation. I considered crawling out of bed to get another blanket from the closet but then realized that I would have to move. Moving was not in the program so I thought that maybe if I farted I would get warmer. But in reality it really was not that cold and it sure didn't stop me from falling asleep.

The next day I found out that the state of Georgia was under "Sever Weather." The "cold Attic air" was causing the temp to "fall into the teens and 20s." Who would have thought? This was going to be the "coldest night so far" for some areas this season. And the warning ended with always good advice: "residents across North and Central Georgia are encouraged to take appropriately protective actions against the extremely cold temperatures."

Just in case you don't understand the severity of my situation here is Georgia let me tell you the circumstances that I was in when I read this Sever Weather Warning. I was sitting at my desk wearing a three quarter length sleeved t-shirt and jean jacket that I had put on that morning. The temperature was 34 degrees and there very day I turned off the A/C in my car. I know, I know it is all very scary to me too. But please do not worry about me during these "extremely cold temperatures." I will survive, I hope. Please, consider the freezing people in Georgia who don't know what a coat is or insulation. But there is hope. The weekend before Christmas will be int he 60s. To bad I will be in Iowa.

Peach Pit - Can Redemption

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Poor Closet

I figured out what was wrong with my closet. Ever since I have moved in, I have been comparing my huge closet to my freshman dorm room. Being that they are roughly the same size. It must have heard me and felt like it needed to be more like my dorm room to make me happy. Well unfortunately, my freshman room was also trying to kill me all first semester. You see back then (and probably still) there were large amounts of asbestos in the ceilings of Daum Residence Hall. As I slept at night, the ceiling paint would fall in my face. After about 4 months I finally got the Hall Coordinator to get some asbestos removal men to fix my room. They had come once before but decided that my room was “much worse than originally informed” and they “were not prepared to fix such a large problem at that time.” So they just left. Yes, go them. Anyway they finally came and fixed the problem. If I get to a scanner I will show you the pictures. So I guess I should stop comparing my closet to my dorm room. Maybe… (View original post for picture of the Huge Closet.)

Peach Pit - Airport Parking 1

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Beware the Closet, BEWARE!

As many of you may have noticed by know that most of my stories of me barely escaping death occur at work. Now you may wonder why I keep going back to such a dangerous place. Instead, maybe I should just stay in my safe and cozy home. But o no, home is not as safe as it may seem.

When I was shopping for a new home in Peachtree city I looked at houses, condos, duplexes, apartments, and anything else with four walls, a floor, and a roof. I decided on this dream duplex. It has two patios, a fire place, two bedrooms, a kitchen with 27 cabinets, and a closet. Not just your regular closet or those walk in closets. This closet is the closet of all closets. It is literally bigger then my freshman dorm room. I could do a cartwheel in my closet (if I could do a cartwheel). And the place was the cheapest of all the places I looked at. I had found my new perfect home for my new perfect life in Georgia. At least that is what I thought. No one could have expected what was going to happen next.

I loved my closet. I fit ALL my clothes, shoes, and packed life with still ¾ of it being empty. Like any extremely prim and proper young lady that lives by herself, I kept the house spotless. Well, okay I did put one of my t-shirts on the new wicker basket I bought and put in my Huge Closet for my socks. The t-shirt sat there for a long time, after all there was plenty of room, no need to pick up when you could still see the floor. But then my closet decided to make its move. I walked into my closet and move my t-shirt and saw powder. That’s right powder. It looked like a line of coke that I tried to wipe up with my shirt. Had I moved into a drug dealing closet home?

After closer inspection, I discovered that the powder had come off my shirt. The paint that was used for the t-shirt print had come off and turned to powder. I was stunned, but then I decided that it must have been a poorly made t-shirt and that the wicker basket must have rubbed off the print some how. I went on with my life unaware of the true horror that lurked in my closet.

A few weeks later, I was moving my priceless peace of art into the large closet. Yes, that is right my Starry Night by VanGogh. As I carried it into the freakishly large closet, I kicked my pair of flip flops to move them to make room for the painting. And there it was. Powder.

My poor powdered shoes (click on picture to see the powder up close and personal)

My shoes had turned to powder! My plastic shoes now powder. What can this be!! At first I was scared that there was chemical in my house, or maybe bugs, or maybe that powder pooping monster that found me after all these years. I thought I got rid of that monster when my family moved out of that house when I was 3. But there it was, powder. What was causing my clothing to turn to powder?

Then I realized that my powder turning closet may not be a bad thing. I could sell it as a new diet plan. That’s right! Step right up folks turn that wide @$$ of yours to powder! Then I thought of all those poor girls that fell asleep in the tanning booth and looked like an oompa-loompa when they woke up. Could I take the liability of the death by powder closet? I’m too young for jail! Then I realized, I sleep by that closet, every night!

What have I done!? I have moved into the home of the Powder Closet! Like so many twilight stories before me, I am trapped. Maybe not in the tv where cartoon characters are trying to kill me but worse. I’m stuck in a year lease. Please, do not talk too loudly, the closet might hear you. If anyone knows a good priest that performs exorcisms, please help me. Shh, I think the closet is waking.

The Huge Closet

Peachtree City Drift

Tucked away behind the forest of trees is a small Georgia town where children play, no one locks their doors, and there is a church on every corner. It seems like the perfect place to live. In fact, it has been ranked the 8th best place to live in America. However, is this southern town's appearance too good to be true? Is there a dark community secret that is lurking under the surface? On the exterior, the community of Pearchtree City drives golf carts to help the environment and encourage the laid back southern atmosphere. However, it has because apparent that Peachtree City has a band of hooligans that are drag racing golf carts. That's right, supping up golf carts to race them on the back trails of the forests. These racers have only the spoils of victory in their minds, fame, girls, and the loser's cart. But what happens when the trail is not there? Today, one innocent bystander found out. Erin witnessed the horrors of golf cart racing gone wrong. She was working and outside a band of ruffians in two golf carts tore past her window. However, little did the teens know that the cart trail entry was not located at Erin's office parking lot but rather in the lot over. The two carts came to a screeching halt. Bits of cart tire became fused to the pavement. The carts became inches apart from colliding into each other. The gang quickly looked around leery of getting caught by the local law enforcement. Finding the all clear, the hooligans tore out of the parking lot. They were lucky this time no one got hurt, but what happens next time? The trails can be a dark and dangerous place when a driver tips his cart. So next time you drive through Peachtree City, lock your doors for there could be dangerous cart racing going on right on the other side of a tree.

When it Rains it Pours

When I started my new job in Georgia, I was given an office with a wall of windows. It is really 3 windows that take up about 95% of the wall. They placed my L shaped desk next to the window wall. Thus, I can always look out the window to the parking lot just by looking up. Because of my nice view, one of my first responsibilities was to inform everyone when it rained so that they could close their car windows. Unfortunately, I failed miserably at this task. This caused me to become worried because some of the other workers would yell at me, tell me that I was fired, and maybe even given the occasional threat. Now in the rainy season of Georgia, it rains every day at exactly 3:30. (Really I even tried to get an office pool going about the rain time, but no one would take my bet.) I tried to tell everyone just to close their windows at 3:29:59 but that seemed not to work.

Fearing the retaliation of my coworkers that insisted on having their windows rolled down, I set out to be sure to know what was going on outside. This was an unusual day. When I arrived all the cars that were normally parked at the end of the parking lot by my windows were parked farther away. I thought nothing of it besides thinking it was odd. All morning, I looked outside for rain. Even though I knew it would not rain until 3:30 that afternoon. But then I heard a noise. Normally it is very quite where I work. (except for the tap dancing elephants in the office above me.) The noise became louder and I realized that it was a helicopter. And then it just kept getting louder and louder. Pretty soon I could see the helicopter from my windows. And it kept getting closer and closer. I was intrigued by the helicopter and wondering where it was going. Then I realized it was coming right at me! It was landing in our little parking lot right next to my window.

I felt the windows bowing because of the large gusts of wind that the blades were creating as it got closer. BANG! BANG! BANG! I’m in a war zone! Holy cow! The blades started to shoot rocks from the parking lot at my wall of windows! All I could think of was that the glass was going to break and I would have a rock hit me, go through my frontal lobe and exit out the back of my skull. I wouldn’t even have a chance to yell, “I’ve been hit!” It would be all over for me. And then my lifeless body would be pelted with more rocks and glass shards from the walls of windows leaving my body unrecognizable.

They would surly cremate my body due to the massive physical damage and wanting to take me back to Iowa. The night before on the news was the trial of a woman who had started a crematorium and was not cremating the bodies. Large unmarked graves were dug up on her property with masses of bodies. O, I don’t want to die in Georgia!

O good, the helicopter had landed by this time. I have survived the attack and felt like sharing. So I walked into the other office with all the other employees and told them that it was not raining but there was a helicopter in the parking lot. They did not seem to care. Apparently it is okay for a helicopter to land on their cars just as long as it doesn’t rain in them.

Later I talked to my boss who also has a wall of windows right next to mine. She told me she worries about the blades getting caught in something and getting torn off and hitting the windows and building.

Now that helicopter still comes by ever once and a while, so I am not out of the clear yet. I fell like Radar from MASH. I am the poor little Iowan that hears the chopper first and tells people. And then I get to watch everyone run out and move their cars. (Of course I never park my car close because there is always the chance that a chopper will land next to it or on it.) So sadly, there is still a possibility of a lobotomy. So, please, if I should die at work, please, do not cremate me.