What I’m about to say may make me the biggest hypocrite in Iowa, but I’m going to say it anyway: I’m ready for a little cold weather.
No, I’m not interested in snow or ice or sleet or frost or shoveling or sanding or salting or adding chemicals to the sidewalk or whatever the rest of it entails, but after days and days of sweating in my house during unnatural heat, I’ve had just about enough.
Today, finally, relief seemed to be in sight, but last night? Last night I gave in, for the second night in a row, and turned on the window unit air conditioner in my room. In October. That doesn’t make one bit of sense.
Worse than that, because I’m a doommonger and naysayer when it comes to the weather, I’m certain that we’re going to get paid back and then some for this current run of sunny, hot days. We’ve cheated Fall, so I’m guessing we’re going to head right smack into winter a little early, and it will stick around extra-long just to piss me off.
I had friends over for dinner last night, and temperatures meant I was out yesterday afternoon in shorts and a t-shirt and flip-flops, cutting lettuce and herbs for the meal. The lettuce was filthy, so before I even brought everything into the house, I took it over to the hose for a little pre-wash action. As the water hit the colander of green goodness, I smelled the sage already releasing some of its oils, and watched the dirt run down the sidewalk. The water sprayed my feet, cooling them off as if it were still August.
Yeah, I’m sick of the heat, but for at least that moment, I felt a brief pang of regret—I suspected it might be the last time this season that it’s comfortable enough to be spraying my bare feet with water and to be washing vegetables outside in the sun. Sure enough, by tonight, I had to put on a sweatshirt. Judging by the 10-day forecast, I can quit complaining about the heat, starting right now.