My friend Sharon and I go way back. There are pictures to prove it, somewhere. But without going into too much detail, she and I have sparred not just once over what temperature was comfortable. Her being from Texas and my being from Minnesota has helped to produce a long-standing debate over wide-ranging ideas of what is hot and cold.
For example, Sharon believes that FORTY DEGREES is something to be reckoned with. My response to that is, “For crying out loud woman! That’s T-shirt weather!” You see, since it was 40 degrees IN MY APPARTMENT yesterday, I know. The fact that it is -7 outside in the sun right now and a cool -29 in the breeze makes my blood colder than Charles Manson’s–though without the macabre and all.
Make no mistake, even in the wake of Bush’s presidency I would gladly move to Texas. I am a broken man. I can no longer take the Minnesota cold, or the neverending Senate recount process. I used to pride myself on being able to deal with it. Now it humbles me–or should I say humilates me? I wake up in the mornings and feel as though God’s breath is being withdrawn from me and Old Man Winter is stealing my soul.
Take me to where there is 40 degree weather.