I’m in denial about winter.

Not that I hate the season. I don’t. If I did, I never would have moved here from Miami.  When people ask me how long it took to acclimate to the cold, I reply “About twenty seconds.”  I’m naturally exothermic—one of these people whose hands are warm when everyone else is blowing on their fingers.  Add hot flashes, and you’ll understand why it’s not unusual to find me standing on my unheated porch in the middle of the night, trying to cool down before going back to my bed.

My brother, who has a little arthritis, has asked me to PLEASE not turn the thermostat below 62, and I’ve agreed. 

No, it’s not the cold that bothers me.  It’s the logistics.

First, I absolutely hate wearing a coat, and tend to avoid it.  I mean, how cold can I get going from a building to a car and back again, right?  Well, okay, but if it’s eighteen degrees and windy, and I have to pump gas and I don’t have a jacket, even I get chilled.  Especially since self-service gas pump handles ALL seem to be missing the piece that allows you to set the pump and step away.

The other thing is ice.  It’s a bitch to drive on, but I don’t really mind that--much.  I have a front-wheel drive car and know when to slow down and how to steer out of a skid.  But have you ever tried to walk on an icy sidewalk in stiletto heels?  I just can’t get all that interested in sensible shoes.  Also, the percentage of my shoes and boots that actually work in snow is pretty damned small.

We haven’t had any heavy snow and, although ice did form on the lake last week, a couple of windy, rainy days broke it all up.  So, I’m still running around in tee shirts and putting on a sweater when I feel a little chilly.

Hey, I could hold out for a while.  The weather report says it might get up to 30 tomorrow…