Winter is Dumb

The cold is wrong. So, so wrong. And when I say wrong I mean evil. If there is a hell, my friends, it most certainly is cold.

There are people who say they like the cold. These people are either filthy, lying humans, or they are aliens from another planet. These are the douchebags who'll chime in with, "Oh I'd rather be cold because you can always put on more clothes." What kind of retarded thing is that to say? I mean, seriously. When I'm wearing tights, pants, 3 shirts, 2 pairs of socks, shoes, a jacket, scarf, hat, gloves, AND mittens, then no, asshole, I really can't put on any more clothes. And I'm still fucking cold. And my face feels like a sheet of pain.

Waiting for a bus in Chicago one nipple-achingly cold day, I had a startling realization: The only thing AT THAT MOMENT between me and death (fucking DEATH!) was four layers of fabric. If I didn't have these thin pieces of fabric and thread wrapped all around me, I would die in a matter of hours. Granted, it would be the groovy kind of death where you go numb and hallucinate, but it would still be death. That's when I decided to move back to Savannah where I'm more likely to die in a tank top and flip flops.

That's also when I realized that cold places are not a human's natural environment. I understand that we as a species have evolved through ice ages and have established civilizations in all but the coldest regions of our planet, but just because we lived to love another day doesn't mean we were meant for the cold.

First of all, we don't have fur. Seriously. My husband is of Russian/Eastern European Jewish descent. He is quite swarthy. He's the kind of guy with 5 o'clock shadow at 9 am. And yet he still lacks the follicular fortitude to brave out even the mildest of Southern winters without some form of clothing.

Second of all, in cold climates, there is very little of what humans call food growing. I understand that we all live near grocery stores now, but I'm just sayin'. The plants and animals we eat tend to thrive best in temperate and tropical climates.

And last, but not least, opportunities for reproduction and the subsequent survival of your genes are seriously hampered by a cold environment. I mean, come on now, when was the last time you had really good lovin' when it was cold? Maybe it's me, but I just don't enjoy getting all excited just to have my husband reach up my shirt and touch the warm skin of my belly with his Icy Cold Fingers of Death. And he's not really turned on by hearing me screech, "Don't touch my skin! Jesus Fucking Christ your hands are cold!"

I should really stop bitchin'. I live in Savannah, where the average winter high is 60 degrees. And there always seems to be at least one week out of every winter month that's 75 and sunny. And I love the occasional winter thunderstorms. And the ever blooming flowers. And the live oaks that keep their coats of thick, shiny leaves on all winter long. I guess if you've gotta do winter and you can't afford Hawaii, Savannah's not a bad place to weather out the winter.

But still. It's cold outside RIGHT NOW and I'm pissed about it. My skin is as dry and cracked as my sense of humor and I'm sick of freezing and shivering 10 seconds after my hot shower is over. I'm going to have another cup of coffee and crank up the heat.