I want it on the record that this cold November weather blows donk. I mowed the lawn between noon and 2 PM on Monday and didn’t so much as break a sweat. Bright sun but cool temperatures, no humidity, and a stiff wind. This is no more the reason I moved to Florida than my desire to be among cultured, friendly, and educated people and less crowded highways.
Guido’s been making noises about turning the heat on, which I also dread — sealing up the house and closing off fresh air deadens my soul and makes me cranky. Crankier. Besides, there are seven cats who live here, all fully clawed.
Which brings up another point. The animals like it chilly. Dumb creatures, they find it invigorating. Their eyes grow wide, they start chasing each other around like lunatics, racing through the rooms, about as respectful of furniture and breakable items as a storm surge. And just that responsive to human admonition, too.
My friend Larry, recently relocated from Massachusetts to Maine, reports that they’ve had their first snowfall. He keeps his house at about 60 degrees. He tells me he doesn’t expect us to visit any time soon — I assume he means this century, unless the effects of global warming prove a whole lot more rapid escalation than even the direst predictions, and manifest themselves next July when they endure their 4 days of summer.
It’s a cruel irony that the severe heat and humidity that climate change have created around the country seem to have skipped over south Florida. I would like nothing better if our summers here started in March, ended in November, and pushed temperatures into triple digits for weeks at a time. Why should Chicago, St. Louis, Washington DC, and the southwest have the fires of hell for themselves? Life is unfair.
As it is, we already have two heavy blankets on the bed (plus assorted restless felines) and are weeks away at best from pulling out the electric mattress cover. We’ve already switched from frozen tequila to room temperature Jack Daniels. The terrazzo floors are painfully cold on my bare feet — my toe rings keep loosening and threaten to fall off — and coffee gets too cold to enjoy halfway through a cup. Fuck this shit.
And fuck all the dimwits who complain that “there’s no change of seasons” in south Florida. You bleeding insensitive bastards you.
Maybe we can find ourselves a nice little bungalow overlooking a molten lava lake on the planet Mercury. I hear the sunsets are spectacular, especially on nights with a full earth.