I may have mentioned this during an earlier online rant, but Wuthering Heights’ Heathcliff gives me the willies like no other fictional character. (Well, except maybe for Valmont in Laclos’ Les Liasons Dangereuses, but he creeps me out for an entirely different reason.) Even more disturbing to me is the fact that many people consider this character a romantic hero. Ick! I watched a movie version of the novel last night (starring the gorgeous Ralph Fiennes), and was yet again reminded how much I hate Heathcliff.

To those of you who swoon over this character, I can only repeat what I have pointed out many times in both college and grad school discussions of the novel… *ahem* What’s wrong with you people?! You’re getting hot over a man who strangles puppies, seduces innocent women, and kidnaps and manipulates children! If that turns you on, you’ve got issues beyond the help I can give you! Come on, people, snap out of it! Please! Okay, I’m done now. My rant is over. Although I must say that casting Fiennes as Heathcliff did help to redeem the character ever so slightly in my eyes.

This morning, still ruffled by the heavy dose of tormented love I got last night, I didn’t pay much attention to what clothes I selected, and foolishly put on a sleeveless blouse. While my decision may seem wise considering that we are supposed to have 90° F weather today, it was, in fact, very foolish. At good old NNU, I must have skipped Vertebrate Anatomy class the day that they discussed the phenomenon of the engineer, and its ability to produce twice as much body heat as the standard human. As a direct result of this, our thermostat is permanently set at 64° F; not cold enough to prompt hypothermia, but darn close. So here I sit, every hair of my body on end and my fingers so numb that my typing accuracy has dramatically decreased. I’ll have to go lie on the hood of my car during my lunch break just to bring by core temperature back to normal.