I used to think it was nuts that old people moved to Florida for the winter. Move for the tax relief - I might consider it. But leave my friends, my life, just because of the weather? Insane.
But I swear, the older I get the colder I get.
My mom wears a wool sweater, mid day, on the beach in July. We have never been anywhere that she didn't remind every family member to bring a sweater.
"Mom, we are going to a hot yoga class! We don't need outerwear!"
"You'd better grab a sweater. They have air conditioning in the lobby."
The only time I've ever seen her hot was in her forties when she was going through "the change." We'd come home and she'd be dusting the house in her bra. My dad said she'd go to sleep in flannels bundled up in a quilt and in the morning she'd be on top of the covers in her skivvies.
I got her cold down pat but none of the warmth.
At work I recently changed offices with the guy next door because he had the thermostat. It would register warm and cut off. I had icicles made of snot dangling from my nose. He was sweating bullets. But he's young - just 40.
I used to sleep in boxers only - no shirt, no sheet - winter, spring, summer or fall. Last night I wore flannel pants and surrounded myself with six pillows to help hold the heat in. I considered a toboggan but was too cold to get out of bed to fetch one.
If I didn't have seat warmers in my car, I'd take a taxi to work. I assume it would already be heated up by the time he got to my house.
My feet could cool the heat rods at the Shearon Harris nuclear plant.
Sometimes I get in the car on a hot summer day and don't turn the air conditioning on until I simply can't breathe anymore. It's the only time my bones really feel toasty.
I don't know what's wrong with me. If it is old age, I'm unimpressed. As I approach 50 my body is changing, rapidly. I may just skip Florida and head straight to Wadi Halfa, Sudan. It's the hottest place on earth - I looked it up.