It’s mornings like this one that make me laugh at myself and wonder, exactly, what in the world I’m doing. It’s a bit brisk this morning. A rather seasonal 41°, with a wind chill that brings our lovely temps down to 32°. As Gracie laughingly said (more than once, because ten), it’s freezing out – literally.
Okay, so not freezing and not literally. But almost.
Which is why I kept laughing at myself. In my head, of course, because it’s morning and I’m not caffeinated yet and let’s not get carried away. I mean, sure the first cold front of the season pushed through – the first one with any bite, anyway – but it’s going to warm up to fifty degrees, people! Let’s not get carried away!
Still, the near-festive atmosphere makes me wonder if I’ve lost my Yankee creds. 41° and I’m pulling out a sweater and wearing boots, picking out cords instead of dress pants and refusing to wear anything that requires pantyhose and dress shoes? Good grief! What am I going to do when I move back home and we call this weather Sepetember?! Or add rain and call it spring, for Pete’s sake!
But then I stopped the self-flagellation before it got out of hand. I wore a three-quarter sleeve shirt under my sweater for when it warms up this afternoon. I only pulled out lightweight jackets for the girls to wear (over their long sleeve shirts and sweaters), not their winter coats. I still plan on running after work, and in shorts no less! (50° is my cut-off for shorts and tshirts, I’ve discovered through many a trial-and-error.) So maybe I haven’t wimped out completely.
Still. I think I’ll keep an eye on myself to make sure I don’t slide down this slippery slope any further. Otherwise it’s going to be an awfully rude awakening in nine years when I go back to where the “real” cold lives!