I’ve been enjoying our winter so far, as much as anyone can enjoy the lack of green things and sunshine. But this week it suddenly got cold. Yesterday it was -5 when I got to work. It hurt to breath. And I know, I know, it used to be SO much worse. Everywhere I’ve ever lived the long-time residents have regaled me with tales of hotter summers and colder winters. But -5 is still pretty cold.
Today it got up to 20-ish, which was nice. But in among fumbling for keys and papers with be-mittened hands, I started pondering the strangeness that is my reaction to temperature. Why is it, I wondered, that I notice a distinct difference when the temperature changes from 70 to 90, but not so much when it goes from 0 to 20?
I have no answer to these cold-induced musings. If I felt like it, I could probably spend time looking for an answer. But I prefer to go on bundling up and dreaming of the day when I’ll be able to pick up my keys without negotiating through numb fingers and double-layer mittens.