This time of year elicits dreams of palm trees and frozen tropical drinks with umbrellas in them, but not for me. I dream of quite the opposite.
From the upper peninsula of Michigan by Ms. Kathy
I stepped out of the heat and into the cool house after a walk with the dog. Moisture permeated the back of my neck. The clammy shirt stuck to my skin. Great! Now I need another shower. Even the pooch panted to relieve the heat. Phew! Bless the person who invented air conditioning. I tromped past the Christmas tree, multi-color lights aglow. Really? It’s Christmastime? Feels more like the 4th of July.
You’d think that living with icy winds and frigid below zero temperatures for the first twenty-five years of one’s life, would make a person happy to move south. It’s not that I’m unhappy by any means. It’s just, this place … I never quite adjusted. I know I’ve written about this before, on more than one occasion, but I tend to be analytical (as it says on my about page).
I realize I’ll probably get a lashing from you northerners freezing your behinds off. But, keep in mind that living in the tropics doesn’t mean I’m on vacation. I work, cook, clean, do laundry, grocery shop, groom my own dog, walk the dog, go to doctors appointments (just got back from dentist), etc. It’s not like I can sit under a palm tree all day long with an umbrella drink. Maybe if that were the case I could adjust. Then again, I’d need to do something to feel my life is worthwhile.
The drone of the a/c has only stopped for a total of about one week since April of this year. Even though I’ve lived here for the entire second half of my life, it still doesn’t seem like Christmas without the cold. Yes, I know, I’m crazy. I wrote about being a crazy freak when I first started this blog.
I didn’t really mean for this to sound like a complaint post. Don’t get me wrong, I remember those frigid, dark mornings hiding under the cozy comfort of blankets not wanting to face the icy air. I dreaded having to warm up the car and scrape off the windows. No thank you, I don’t want that either.
I’ll just call myself Goldylocks. You know, the fairytale character who liked it just right. It would be nice if I could just open some windows.
Stay warm my favorite northerners, and have a cup of hot cocoa for me, or better yet, a hot-buttered rum.