Cubiculum

I am in Miami. I am in a cubicle, in Miami. I have come to realize that the temperature they've set in this cubiculum is the exact temperature of my skin. It is uncomfortably comfortable; I feel as if I've peed on myself. Or, as if I do not have any skin on. As a nudist, I absolutely hate the idea of not having skin. It would take away the point of everything, entirely. Am having a little rumble in my tummy, for I know that in seventy-six minutes, I will be inside a fancy restaurant, having the weekly bowl of chili with my mother. Today, I will attempt to make my mother laugh so hard, that she will spew chili from her nostrils. Timing is crucial.