I’m smart enough to know that things are relative, especially when we say it’s cold in Florida. It’s 43F this morning, deep-deep in the relativity range temperature wise.
Pardon me while I steam up for a bit. I’m overhearing the latest “there’s been no significant warming in the last 15 years” rant from the local ignoramus. It’s too early to get angry. It’s too early to get angry….
Someone, say, in Maine, Canada, or even Alaska, might look at 43F on the thermometer and boast about shorts and beaches. Then again, a scientist at McMurdo Station might look at 43F in his or her dreams.
Just don’t talk to Jim Lovell about cold. “You want cold? Try SPACE! You try flying back to Earth from the Moon with the heat off. That’ll freeze your bits off before you can say GO P.”
Alright, so we’ve established context means a lot, if not everything. That said, I’m loving the cold, and the wife thinks I’m a wee bit crazy. But I’m used to that.
I’m not drive a convertible down the freeway with the top down and my shirt off crazy. I’m properly attired for a Floridian at the three layer legal limit. But I do have my window down (part way, anyway).
I just think the cooler weather goes to waste if I don’t savor it while it’s here. If I’m gonna complain when it’s 90F with matching humidity, I can’t whine when the mercury retreats. That’s not how I roll.
Call me crazy (everyone else does), but I love the novelty of cool dry air rushing through my windows, gently numbing my ear lobes and making raisins out of my eyeballs.
I can’t get enough. Bring on the 30s! Bring on the 20s!
The teens? Maybe not so much. I’m not that crazy. Like it or not, I am still a Floridian after all.