A Freaking Frigidarium

Riding in the car with Stick is sometimes a bizarre crash course in boyfriend stream-of-consciousness. Last night he announced that he wants to open a theme restaurant.

“I’ll call it the Frigidarium,” he says, “And when people ask me why the heat isn’t turned on, I’ll say, because it’s a freaking Frigidarium!”

“Um, will you have air conditioning in the summer?”  I ask.

“Yes, because it’s a freaking Frigidarium!”

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