I HATE cold weather. HATE, HATE, HATEY, HATE it.
As a small child I was forced to live with my parents and brother and sister on the Canadian border where it snows pretty much year round.
It left me horribly scarred. Winter wise, cold weather speaking.
Nowadays, my alcohol and sun thinned blood just can’t take it. Every winter I curse the cold and dream of moving further south, longing for my tropical island. I know I’m being petty and small. We get none of the grief of our northern neighbors with their blizzards and freezing rain and hell on earth.
But, today, as another arctic blast of global warming slams through, we are treated to a stiff northerly gale that will make your big ones freeze into little hard marbles. And as I walk our double Labs daily; daily emasculating myself, I wonder.
Why DON’T we move further south? I mean, I have all of the stick-to-it-ness of a post it note.
And yet. When there’s a fire roaring and the dogs are splayed, sleeping, and the house is toasty, you do kinda get a warm familial feel to your life.
My confusion overlaps.