It's been 22 degrees outside all day. It was about 30 at the high yesterday. And maybe 35 the day before.
I'm sick of the cold. I want it to stop. I don't want to spend the next 3-4 months removing two layers every time I take my fleece jacket off (I think fleece was invented by the people who brought us Velcro). I hate socks and I don't want to wear them. I hate alligator skin on my shins. Wool sweaters (and that includes cashmere) itch.
You probably can't tell, but I grew up here - I used to love this time of year. Ski season, football season, school in session, the full monty. And now, I want it to be 70 again; I don't care what the calendar says.
Blecch. Old age stinks.