About a week and a half ago, a man was hollering at me outside a Walmart.
“Look at this guy with the flip-flops…holy moley…”
It was 15° and had just finished raining. I was in sweatpants, a hoodie, and my favorite pair of flip-flops. I gave him the only answer that seemed logical:
“Doesn’t bother me. I was born in the snow.”
In all fairness, while I was born at the end of January, back in 1990 it was 47° and less than an inch of snow on the ground. Additionally I was delivered in a hospital, but I’ll continue. I love the cold. I love THIS cold. The cold that happens a few days after it snows, where the ground is wet but the air is dry and the temp is down in the teens. Do I get cold? Hell yes I do, just as cold as the next person who hates being so. But for some reason it’s built into me to love it.
Snow in large quantities is certifiably annoying unless you have a flame thrower, and that’s just a fact. It’s nice to get the workout and whatnot, but the way it’s been snowing these past couple of years, it’s something to fear. Not because it’s consistently a lot, but it always seems to come all at once. Mild winters that include one gigantic snowfall, then nothing else till rain in the spring.
In any case….the cold is a seasonal friend of mine that I welcome and it’s made a bit of a debate between the missus and I.
You see: for some reason my wife gives off more heat than any human should naturally be able to emit. Because of that, a number of things happen:
- Our bed becomes incredibly warm under the blankets, making it necessary for me to leave almost half my body uncovered for fear of sweating to death in the night.
- She almost always feels cold. It could be 70 degrees outside and she’ll still wear a light sweatshirt.
Perhaps we were made for a different region of the world then. A place where it’s cold at night but fairly warm during the day…..although now that I think about it…..that describes a desert.
Oh well, perhaps the desert is where we will end up some day.
Although we keep talking about Canada…….