I knew it was going to inevitably happen, considering I grew up with four true seasons every year for 21 years. And then moving to Georgia where the summers are brutal and the winters are supposedly mild, it was only a matter of time before the tolerance for cooler weather would begin to gradually chip and eat away at me, before I would inevitably look at a particular temperature and go “god damn it’s cold.”
Well, I’m there now, I think officially. Granted, 37F degrees in October is slightly low on the spectrum of arriving fall weather, but it’s gotten to the point where I have yet to switch my home’s thermostats over to “heat,” and my home’s temperature is dropping into the low 60s, and my bedroom which is over the garage, creeps into the 50s, leading my to wake up cold and blurting expletives when stumbling out of bed in order to hit snooze.
The point remains, I’m easily cold now, vastly more than I used to be in the past. Sure, I was more conditioned, not to mention my body’s composition was slightly tubbier back then, so say what you want about the insulating properties of blubber, but now, I’m furrowing my brow when it drops into the low 60s outside, and anything equivalent within my home is becoming “too fucking cold.”
I guess it’s not the end of the world, seeing as how I like wearing hoodies and sweatshirts, and I like a lot of the clothes I have once the weather gets colder. But it’s undoubtedly getting to that time where I should shelve the sandals, and socks will be taking up more space in the laundry. And complaints about cold kneecaps or feet that refuse to get warm, no matter what.
But that’s okay, in spite of my diminished tolerance for the cold, as long as I’m prepared for it, I still prefer it cool outside, rather than worrying about sweating up a storm just trying to walk around outside.
