We’re reaching the tail end of our usual one week of winter here in Florida, where temperatures actually plunged into the upper 40s. Parkas were broken out, fires were lit, distant memories of the sun were shared; it was truly a dark time. But the forecast today called for temperatures in the lower 70s, so I felt like I could brave the chill this morning and do without a jacket. It’d be warm later, right?
Lies. Filthy lies.
If it reached the lower 70s today, it was 70.0000000001 degrees for about forty-five seconds or so. The only way we knew the sun existed was that something must have been sending light through the clouds or else we wouldn’t be able to see. And the wind. The constant, chilly wind that seemed to resent the very idea that we have a summer. Oh, and have some drizzle while you’re at it, you spoiled, thin-blooded Floridians.
And of course, I couldn’t just go home after work. No, I had to run out to Disney to pick up my packet for my 10K on Friday. Still cloudy. Still windy. Still cold. Still no jacket.
Never again, weather forecast. You and me? We’re done.
Now watch, tomorrow I’ll wear the jacket and it’ll be 80-something.