A friend called from the great white north describing the snow on the ground that was melting in New Hampshire and how freaking cold it was to be walking along the coast in 30 effing degree weather with the wind blowing bringing the wind chill down to something crazy like 14F degrees.
Oh my gosh, while he was talking, I was imagining all that freaking frigid weather and I got so cold that I had to slip on my fuzzy warm house shoes and don a sweater. I was still so cold, I found a blanket and wrapped it around me. Brrrrr.... I was still freezing listening to him describe how it was warming up to 34 and the snow would be melting. So I stuffed myself, and the blanket inside the broom closet and turned on the emergency heater.
I was just thawing out when he said he was probably driving to Florida next week and by the way, what my current temperature in Florida?
For a moment I wondered why oh why didn't I have an outside thermometer in the broom closet?
"Um, hold on, let me go check the outside thermometer."
Cautiously exiting the warm broom closet, I wrapped my blanket even tighter to brave the c-c-cold and walked all of 4 steps in my modest wheel estate to peer out the window at the outside window thermometer. Without my glasses I couldn't read it, so I bravely stuck my arm out from under the warm blanket to prop some spectacles on my nose. I was relieved not to be frostbit from this bold gesture and ensconced my arm back inside the safety of the warm blanket.
I leaned over to study the thermometer then blurted out "It's dropping here too, it's down to um, 68 degrees here."
"Did you say 58 degrees? That's mild!"
"Um, no... 68 degrees."
"Oh, barefoot weather!"
I was so glad my caller could not see me standing there wrapped up in my sweater, blanket and fuzzy warm house shoes as I reluctantly agreed "Oh yes... barefoot weather."
Just writing about this now, has made me cold.
If you found errors in this post I'm sorry, it must be the thick wool gloves.
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