I dashed around the corner to my local grocery store for some sustenance items, which here means "hot chocolate and cookies to keep me awake and happy during an all-night paper-writing spree." While paying, I briefly chatted with the man behind the counter, who commented on how delicious hot chocolate is, especially on a cold December night. I agreed with him, and noticed that the door to his store, which is usually wide open and welcoming, was closed tonight, presumably to keep out the cold, right? We complained about the weather for a few minutes together, discussing how much we were looking forward to curling up with a warm blanket and, in my case at least, cup of hot chocolate. I handed over my cash, saying "stay warm!" in lieu of "goodbye," and headed home, shivering the whole way.
The problem? It's 55 degrees out. We are so spoiled.
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5 comments:
There are no words... ::remembering how it was 5 degrees F yesterday::
yeah, spoiled until you FALL INTO THE SEA!
totally with you on this. it got below sixty over the weekend and i thought i might die.
As I recall, I never once heard you say anything about it being too cold when we lived in Provo together. Granted, it was an unseasonably warm winter (30s or above most of the time, as I recall) . . . but still
You are so reminding me of a scene in "LA Story" right now, where Steve Martin is a weatherman and in mock drama decries it having reached a very cold 55 degrees the night before.
Still one of my favorite movies.
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