I feel cheated. Ripped off. Faked out. Et cetera. For about two or three weeks in March, we experienced a warming trend. A hideous testament of global warming. But I loved it. It had me shoving my coats, gloves, scarves, and jackets into a storage bin. Temperatures were getting into the high 80s (at least that’s what my internal thermometer said). Suddenly it turned viciously cold, plummeting into the mid-20s at night and the 30s in the day, with arctic winds frosting things up (these are all my personal estimates, and I’m sure this sounds fabulous to people who live in Minnesota, but I’m in Nashville). A hilarious in-your-face swipe at the global warming theory*.
What do I want to do when it gets that cold? That’s right, sulk. The wind is cruel and terrible, burning my ears and making my eyes tear up when I try to ride my bike or run. So, there goes my training.
I don’t know why the quick weather change has got me so down in the dumps, but it does. It really chaps my hide.
*What gets me about the global warming theory is that scientists (whoever they are) seem to expect things to stay the same. They expect their expectations about how, when, where, why, and who (?) to be met by Mother Nature. Fools.