I can't stand it.
Until this very year, I would have said that I didn't care how cold it got. Just give me sunshine. In fact, I was still saying that in January of this year, as gray day after gray day rolled through. I wasn't feeling the desperate effects of SAD as I customarily do, but I was certainly aware of the endless, creaseless, seamless gray.
And here we are, with the sun brightly shining on the third day in a row that the mercury in the thermometer is reluctant to rise past 0, and I am beside myself with the misery of cold feet, cold rooms, cold cold cold. The icicles are reminiscent of the days of the wooly mammoth, and the bathtub drain is frozen. (Now that's a pleasant situation.) The dog still dawdles as long as she always has over her outdoor activities, but when she is finally finished she races at breakneck speed for the door.
My own school is off for its second Cold Day, so I am mostly sitting in bed, grading papers and reading. But I did have to go to run errands yesterday, and back out again to my own university class last night, so I know that when the temperature reaches 15, as is promised in the next day or two, it will feel positively balmy.
It is on days like this that a girl's thoughts turn south and think of permanent relocation. To St. Augustine, for example, where one could wake up to this:
PS: Cold is such a bad thing. I seem to have accidentally ordered eleven books from Amazon and Friends. As long as I was sitting here in the cold. And I purchased two at a real bookstore last night. As long as I was out in the cold. Why can't I just do something productive, like laundry?