Today it was about 5 degrees in Charlotte (I counted them). That's the main reason that I showed up to work and met my first ever parole officer dressed like a lumberjack. When I got up this morning, it was cold beyond all reason (emphasis: beyond reason), so I put on a shirt, and then another, and then another, and then....
I stood there, feeling pretty awkward while the parole officer gave me a variety of funny looks. I noticed that one or more of those looks was directed at my hat, which my sister crocheted and then gave away when she decided it was too hippie for her. But at least my ears weren't cold.
Did you know that parole officers wear badges that look like Real Police-Type Badges? I did not, so I was intimidated, until I remembered that as long as this guy was like the real police, and had nothing to do with the fashion variety, I was off the hook. I am thankful that it's not illegal to impersonate a logger in the workplace.
P.S. Because this post is about 1. a lumberjack and 2. freezing temperatures, I had to name it after a line in the first song I ever played start to finish on the guitar. I don't have to explain why so far, 2 of every 2 posts on this blog mentions whiskey. Or why at a tender young age I was entertained by a song about turning a human cadaver into a tool for deforestation. Ask nerkert.