80 degrees? In December?

Such thoughts never cross the mind of a native Midwesterner. Well…to be more accurate, those kinds of thoughts cross your mind often…really often. Especially when you’re running late and you’ve endured the freezing temperatures as long as humanly possible in order to scrape ‘enough’ ice off of your windshield so you can see the tiny patch of road directly in front of you.

Good times.

You just never imagine that you’ll find yourself wanting to turn on the A/C…or wearing short sleeves in a winter wonderland.

Meteorologists are predicting temperatures approaching 80 degrees tomorrow.

The blood has thinned, my friends. Yes, I still laugh at those people around here who wear hats and scarves for 50 degree weather (my father would be found on the golf course in his sandals), but I’m scared. I mean I’ve become really irrationally phobic of sub-freezing temperatures.

I haven’t seen snow in at least two years. The coldest temperatures I’ve endured are when I go into those large supermarket beer refrigerators. And even then, I have a well thought out plan of attack so I can get in and out. It’s like Supermarket Sweep, but without the creepy manic enthusiasm.

When I go back to Chicago next week for Christmas, it’ll be in the 20s.
The 20s!? The freakin’ 20s? Why would anyone live there?

I remember trudging to class when the wind chill made it feel like 0 degrees…and I’m not talkin’ Fahrenheit or Celsius…I’m talkin’ Kelvins. Like absolute zero. Like temperatures that had only been achieved in a lab setting up to that point.

I’m not sure that I’m going to like it. Not. One. Bit.