Cold weather is coming, and I hate it

Cold weather is coming.

I hate cold weather.

Give me 98 degrees and dripping sweat, any day. Send me some of that suffocating Macon heat. Bring it on.

I hate cold weather.

Frozen fingers and toes are not something I cherish. I’ve never been fond of my extremities feeling like popsicles.

I hate cold weather.

Arctic blasts, like the one due to arrive in Middle Georgia today, do nothing for me. Tell them to stay away. This is the South. We’re not supposed to be frigid at latitude 32.85 North and longitude 83.68 West.

I hate cold weather.

I’m not big on frost and seeing my breath. I don’t like it when the ground is hard and the cold wind cuts right through my skin. I’m not fond of chattering teeth and watery eyes.

I hate cold weather.

OK, a little snow every once and a while is exciting. Go ahead and dream of a White Christmas. That would be fun. Just don’t dump any of sleet and icy roads into the mix. Don’t give me any frozen precipitation that is going to make our sissy little pine trees snap and fall across the power lines. I prefer to have electricity so I can turn on my electric blanket at bedtime.

I hate cold weather.

Flannel pajamas. Longjohns. A wool overcoat. Mittens. They’re all nice, but I prefer not to have to use them unless absolutely necessary.

I hate cold weather.

If I wanted sub-freezing temperatures I would live in Embarrass, Minn. (Yes, it really does exist.) The temperature there dipped to 54-below in January 2005 and that wasn’t even the record, which was 57-below on Ground Hog’s Day in 1996.

I hate cold weather.

I don’t like having to use chapstick and hand warmers. It’s not much fun getting up when it’s dark and coming in the dark.

I hate cold weather.

And when I hear people say they love cold weather, my only response is this:

I hate cold weather.