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.

There’s no escaping winter in the continental United States.  Hawaii is starting to look attractive again.  But tequila there is ‘way too expensive for my habit.

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.

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8 Responses to Brrrr

  1. julesagray says:

    Oh. poor baby. you’re all cold n’ shit. Waah waah waah.
    -Love, Julia in Chicago

  2. ya' gotta' guessit says:

    You think you know heat?
    Try Phoenix in August, tough guy!

    • Phoenix in August is refreshing. South Florida in August is STIFLING.

      • ya' gotta' guessit says:

        Yes – refreshing like a pizza oven.

      • Squathole says:

        It’sd the old story about “dry heat” — the effect Arizona vacationers on the gol course don’t feel until the 15th hole when they suddenly clutch their throats and drop dead. In Fkorida we feel every increment of heat and humidity. I love it. Dry heat is the minor leagues.

  3. masspube says:

    Larry here, from Maine. Frost on the ground early this morning and sunny and warm in the mid 30’s…., Warm enough to walk the grounds in T shirt and no sox Crocs…in the 30’s. .Oh yeah, and pants. Not even jacket season yet And Obalesque, you heard Guido wrong again….its a change of seasoning she was mentioning, not seasons, as there is no change in the frying pan of a state that you call home. She’s changing from cumin to garlic on your diarrhea inducing broccoli rabe.

  4. Hugh Bris says:

    Weather-related changes you can count on in south Florida: (1) Crowded roads and stores as the French Canadians aand other part-time residents arrive; (2) Howls of despair from Dolphins fans as the team’s season tanks by Thanksgiving, and (3) Obalesque’s annual rant about his cold house, colder floors, and even colder blood.

  5. syrbal says:

    Many reasons to not live in Florida….but it beats some places. I had a pal lived in Puglia, Italy in a tiny building about 400 years old. It was an old olive press building out in the groves and had walls about 15″ thick. In summer when it was 120 outdoors, it was considerably cooler inside, but in winter it barely stayed 60 and the only heat was a small fireplace.

    I know, list me in the insensitive bleeding bitches column.

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