I miss 110 degrees. I know what to do with 110 degrees. You throw on some clothes and go about your day. Stick a little cardigan in your car for the occasional movie or restaurant and you're done. Easy. But 30 degrees? 29? 28? Covering plants. Uncovering plants. Covering plants. Uncovering plants. Covering plants. Uncovering plants. Layering up to prepare for the walk through the garage to the car. Sweating under the scarf in the hot house as you gather purse, gloves, phone. Can't answer the phone with gloves on. Ripping off scarf and gloves because one should be able to walk to the car without eighteen items of clothing. Freezing since you "forgot" to pull the trash to the curb last night since it was dark and the grass was frozen and you didn't want to slip. Sweating after two minutes in the car with the heat blasting. Shocking your face in the morning with icy water. Unable to breathe inside for days. But it's a dry heat. But I can't breathe. Three blankets and a sweatshirt should get you through the night without the thermostat set above 75. Created a big, glorious fire, finally happy to curl up with a book and a couple of cats only to have my own personal Mr. No Burn Day Police Officer Shawn inform me that I'm breaking the law. After all I do to reduce my footprint in this brown cloud? I've tried to be careful with the air. I drive a tiny car. I recycle. I compost. I hardly ever shop or travel anymore, so let me have a fire when it's below freezing. It's the one thing that makes this all worthwhile. That, and wearing cute boots. And snuggling under flannel sheets with a warm guy. And pomegranate hot tea at night.
