A Little (Heated) Plea

Dear AF,

I love you. Don't get me wrong. But I have a favor to ask.

I want heat.

I know you are thinking "We don't control the weather." And usually you would be right, but this time you are wrong. You do, indeed, control the weather.

See, you gave us a list of bases and told us to rank our top six. We ranked them all on the East coast and southern California. You laughed in our faces and stuck us in the middle of nowhere west. We were shocked, but we accepted it.

Then you said that we would know in December when we were to report to the mountainous terrain, and we didn't. Then you said we would know in January, and we didn't. Then you said we would know in February, and we...well, that's not over yet. But we've accepted it.

But don't get me wrong, I'm not asking you to speed up the process or to change your minds and throw us in SoCal (...unless of course you feel so compelled, in which case we would not be sad). I'm just begging for some warmth before we disappear into the coldness.

We need one week. One week between commission and reporting to the base. Just one. Two, if you really feel like you owe us and want to be generous. But just one week and B and I will take off to the south and enjoy the weather (that you would be granting us, of course) in Mexico, or the Bahamas, or St Lucia...anywhere with sun and sand and a coast, really.

B and I hate cold. We hate snow. We hate winter. It's a fact.

So please, grant us some warmth. Just this once.

Like this:


Or this:


Thanks for your help,
Meg

P.S. If this is undoable, could I get a monkey instead?