With winter over, the AC steps up as new enemy

My Sentiments Exactly

Well, it finally happened. It was inevitable, really.

I mean, after this long, cold Groundhog’s Day of a winter (I swear it was March for 114 days!), we knew this time would come eventually. It just wasn’t clear exactly when … and / or how stable a situation we’d be facing as it finally did.

Sure, for lots of humans, it was a crapshoot decision — and likely still is. I’m not even going to deny hedging back and forth on the fence about this one at least 9,487 times. And that was just in the first few hours I actually gave it any serious consideration.

The self-doubt spurred an internal dialogue that was almost debilitating. Is it too soon? Will I regret it? Will it push everything back indefinitely?

I lamented over whether or not I had enough support, whether I felt like these steps were being taken wisely or if they were premature in terms of the cold reality waiting outside the door.

I hemmed and hawed about if my current supply stock was solid. Had I replenished and updated it sufficiently enough that it be effective against the ever-changing climate we’ve got going on out there in the atmosphere today?

“Will it end up being all for naught — and I’ll suddenly wind up right back where I started; hunkering down at home?” I kept wondering.

I won’t lie, I have absolutely put it off, probably longer than most.

But after the outdoor temperature officially exceeded the 85-degree Fahrenheit mercury mark, I figured it was safe enough, so I took a deep breath — and then the plunge.

Yep, I finally pulled out my summer shoes.

Wait, what did you think I was talking about? Ohhhhhhhh. So you thought I was going down the COVID-bricked road? Yeah, not today, folks. Just for a minute, I want to obsess about something else, a’ight?

Like, for instance, if I slip on those slingbacks and head out for summer saunter, am I going to find myself suddenly in the midst of what Axl Rose would describe as a “cold November rain?”

I’m not imagining it. This was, by far, the bleakest, longest and blechiest (yes, that’s an official meteorological term) winter in recent history in these here parts.

Come on, snow in mid-May? I mean global warming, my foot! Which is precisely my point. My tootsies cannot be caught off-guard in next to nothing if Mother Nature decides to go all “10th Avenue Freezeout” on Juneteenth, you dig?

People, when you have a little auto-immune issue causing your circulation to grind down to about .005 mph, you honest to Pete just can’t afford to expose yourself, as in, to the elements.

Raynaud’s Disorder causes my fingers and toes to start turning purple when the AC is degrees cooler than the outside temp. Seriously.

Certain cooking duties are now extreme-sport equivalent. Mixing meatballs, for instance, is a bonafide frostbite risk. I’d be safer in Pamplona with those burly bulls, capisce?

I mean, how are my strappy little gladiator sandals going to protect me from an unexpected cold blast that literally curls my toes?

Oh, well. With hope in my heart and sunshine on my mind, I’ve formally committed to the season.

I ALWAYS keep a coat with pockets and a stash with boots and mittens handy, though.

What? I live in NE Ohio and my kid goes to college in Buffalo … hello? I have a warm heart but core body temp of 96.2.

— Kimerer is a columnist and blogger with a sunny disposition — and a serious aversion to coldness. Share your emergency stash of hot cocoa at www.patriciakimerer.com.


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