Writer Lady puts on her coat. Staring at the rack next to the door she contemplates a scarf. Deciding against it she opens the door and realizes the bright March sunshine brought a new friend with it: warmth. A warmth she hasn’t felt since last October. A smile crosses her lips, she closes the door and runs back to her bedroom. She removes her heavy pants, shirt and winter underwear replacing them with a pair of jeans and one of her favorite t-shirts. Writer Lady exits the house, running outside only to find the temperature has drastically dropped. The spring like warmth has been replaced with its deceptive winter counterpart. A breeze has arrived. A biting cold that prompts Writer Lady to mutter several choice words as she clumsily runs back indoors to try to dress for current weather conditions yet again.
Carp knocks on the door to the bedroom as he is walking in. “Five minute warning. If you don’t leave in five minutes you will officially be running late.”
A growl comes from beyond the closet door. “I know. I can’t seem to pick out the right clothes. If I dress for winter I’m too hot. When I dress for early spring I’m freezing.”
“Dress in layers. Lay-ers.” Carp says as he absentmindedly inspects his nails. He watches as Writer Lady’s arm flings various pieces of clothing across the room: a sweater, sweatshirt, a thermal hoodie, a light weight hoodie, a tank top, heavy jeans, a pair of leggings and her long underwear. One by one they come to rest on her bed.
“I can dress in layers.” Writer Lady says. “The problem is figuring out how to walk once I get them all on. What happens if Mother Nature decides to make the jump to hyperspace and throw us into summer?”
“It’s probably not going to come to that.”
Writer Lady emerges from the closet wearing her favorite bath robe. She picks up the television remote and turns up the volume on the weather forecast.
“Mother Nature is everybody’s mama. Someone has jumped on her last nerve this time babies!” Tony Johnson, Window Weather Woman announces. “It's anything goes this week boys and girls. But don't worry, Miss Tony's going to tell you what you need to do. Y'all need to be ready for anything so plan ahead. Don’t be surprised if the weather reaches out and whoops yo butt for a minute or two. It could happen.”
Writer Lady turns her attention back to Carp as she turns off the television. “What am I going to do?”
“Stick to layers and you’ll never go wrong. Considering the forecast, you might want to start with your most versatile two piece and build from there.”
Writer Lady disappears back into her closet and steps out wearing a high waisted two piece in neon everything. A blast of pink, yellow, green and blue. “Next.” She says.
“Go get a mailer for that bathing suit because the eighties called and they want their clothes back.”
A blush appears across Writer Lady’s cheeks.“Some people would call it vintage.”
“How much more do you have?” He asks.
“Not much.”
“There is a sweater and matching leg warmers set hiding in this room somewhere isn’t there?”
“Maybe.”
Carp whispers. “Is it...neon?”
“No.”
“You were going to wear it weren’t you?”
“The leg warmers might come in handy.” Writer Lady responds sheepishly.
Carp leaves the room and when the assassin-in-training returns he’s wearing sun glasses.
“What are those for?”
“Between your pale skin and the neon I’m getting a headache.”
Writer Lady rolls her eyes.
“Corey Hart wore sunglasses at night for a reason. T. M. N. Too much neon.”
“What am I supposed to do? It’s not my fault Mother Nature's showing all of her personalities at once.”
Carp lowers his glasses and peers at Writer Lady over the top of them.
“Judge all you want but you’re not the one who has to go out in that mess. If I want to dust off the blue heart sweater and matching leg warmers, I’ll do it.”
Carp shakes his head. “If you want to commit fashion suicide that’s up to you.”
Having just won an argument, any argument, Writer Lady smiles broadly.
“I do have one question for you.” He says. “What are you going to do if those leg warmers get wet?” The assassin-in-training pulls back the curtain and reveals that it has begun raining outside. A heavy blowing rain. A squirrel hanging on to a branch flies by the window just as Writer Lady reaches it. The animal is soaked and does not look happy.
Carp points to the leg warmer in her hand. “What happens after it gets wet?”
“No problem.” Tinkletoes says from the entry. “Her cammos will fit right over them.” The self-proclaimed mercenary looks at Writer Lady.
“I found the cupcakes you left for me but I need coffee.”
“Make some.”
“I can’t make coffee when there’s no coffee pot.”
“It’s on the counter.”
“The coffee maker is there but there’s no pot to catch the coffee.”
A tired sigh is expelled from her lungs. “I washed it. The coffee pot is in the dish drainer.”
“And?”
“You don’t see it?”
“I do not.”
“It is amazing to me how our government let someone who can’t find a dish drainer sitting on a kitchen counter operate heavy equipment.”
The self-proclaimed mercenary shakes his head. "I was never part of an armored vehicle crew, I was a fire support specialist.”
“A what?”
“I determined the exact location of potential targets and proposed plans on how to neutralize them.”
Writer Lady looked at Carp. “Seriously?”
Carp nods. “He was also a sharpshooter.”
“Why am I not surprised?” She asks rolling her eyes. Writer Lady puts on a robe as she heads for the kitchen. She stops at a small section of counter to the right of the sink and points. “Dish drainer.” She says as she lifts the towel laying over the item in it. “Coffee pot.”
Tinkletoes retrieves the pot from the drainer.
Writer Lady looks at the clock on the stove. “I’m late.”
A bell rings in the distance.
“Text message!” TP’s voice rings throughout the kitchen.
“What’s it say?” Tinkletoes asks.
“There’s an ice storm, stay home! Love Mom.”
Writer Lady pulls back the kitchen curtain. Ice pellets are falling outside leaving a layer of ice on everything. A car slowly creeps by on the street in front of her fish tailing every few inches. “I’m not running late.” She says as she watches the storm outside amazed at how so many changes have taken place so quickly.
Tinkletoes hands the empty coffee pot to Writer Lady. “Beings you’re not going anywhere, we could use some coffee.”
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