Probably not what you think it means. To me, it means cold, a terrible chill in my lab that makes it uncomfortable to work there, just as I’m getting the freedom to work there. Every summer, when the physical plant starts working to cool the building, they seem to start with refrigerating my lab space. The whole building is out of balance, so while my lab is sitting at a chilly 15°C, the lab right next to mine is a feverish 27°C. It has been driving me mad for years, and nothing ever gets done to fix it.

It’s not good for the spiders, these Southern belles that were collected in Florida and dragged up to Minnesota.

They’ve all got heating pads under their cages, but there’s a steep gradient from the floor of the cage to the top, so no wonder they’re all huddled as low as they can get all the time. The babies are in incubators, so they don’t care, yet…but once they get to a size that demands more space, I have to move them out into the main lab.

It’s not good for me, either. I have to wear my winter coat every day to keep warm at the microscope and computer. I have to yell at the administration, but maybe you’ve noticed that I’m rather soft-voiced and apparently totally ineffectual.

My plan for this week, as my teaching responsibilities diminish, is to pack up all the adult spiders and bring them home. Don’t worry, I’ve already cleared it with Mary.

Maybe I should pack up all the microscopes and computers and bring them home, too. The university isn’t making the effort to create a livable working environment, so they can’t complain if I abscond with all the gear and instruments, right?