Great White South


It is 50 degrees outside as I type this, and we’re expected to get down to 29 tonight.  And we won’t even see 50 tomorrow.  It’s official:  Florida is getting its 48 hours of winter, and it’s clearly the end of the world.

My parents are from New Jersey, and long ago vamoosed to North Carolina, so they’re used to this kind of weather.  I, however, did not inherit their northern blood.  And even if I had, 45 years in Florida has so completely and utterly diluted it, I can’t stand in front of an open fridge without thinking about turning on the heat.  I’m a winter wimp.  A day with a high in the low 60s and dipping down into the 40s?  Sure.  That’s lovely.  But the 20s?  You can have it.

Now I know my northern friends will scoff at me.  But you’re all complaining about colder than usual weather right now yourselves.  There’s a level of winter you’re used to, and Mother Nature has rudely decided to ignore your preferences and give you a dose of the ice age.  Well, it’s the same for us in Florida.  We have the winter we’re used to, and we are not being cooperated with in the slightest.  Yes, the level at which our discomfort begins pales in comparison to yours, but the actual degree of our suffering is completely proportional.  We might not be shoveling sidewalks, but our cold weather stuff has been in the closet for so long, it smells really musty.

Of course, by Thursday we’ll be back up into the 70s, while those up north will still be digging themselves out.  And we’re forecast for 80s on Friday.  But don’t worry.  Come June, you’ll be laughing at us as we empty out the grocery stores every time a tropical storm so much as looks at us.  We might not shiver too well, but we sure can hunker down.

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