The triumphant return of "Jef complains about the weather"

[urbpan]

Since Saturday we have perfect weather--if you like wearing clothes. Me? Not so much. (This hereby retires "not so much" to the bin with "...Not!" and "Where's the beef?" "Extreme!" is long overdue for retiring, and its continued use is evidence of the poor state of American culture, like you needed any.) Where was I? Oh yeah. It's too cold.

People keep talking about how "perfect" the weather is, and I'm about done with it. It's cold. I can't wear sandals, I have to wear long pants, socks and even a JACKET of all things. Let us keep in mind that it is summer until Wednesday. (Ironically forecast as the warmest day of the week.)

Sure, it's pretty, it's sunny, it's not humid, but it's damn cold. I don't want it to get down into the 40's again until Halloween, thankyouverymuch.

New Englanders like to talk about layers. Whenever I complain about the cold someone tells me to wear layers. You know what "layers" means? Carrying my goddamn coat around because the temperature shifted from "too damn cold to not have a coat" to "too warm to wear a coat." What the hell are we supposed to do with all these wonderful layers as the temperature shifts from subarctic to normal? This, the wife hypothesizes, is the origin of the preppy sweater-over-the-shoulders look. Which looks really stupid, by the way. I'm going to twist my layers into a nice tall turban. Or more likely, begin the annual tradition of leaving a long sleeve shirt or sweater at work every day until I have none at home and I have to leave the house wearing a winter coat with nothing but a sleeveless t-shirt under it. Except that I don't have a winter coat because I'm stubborn and cheap and instead have to wear "layers" of hooded sweatshirts and light jackets. To say nothing of the "layers" of long underwear I have to wear so that I can bicycle or wait for public transportation to actually get to work, which then turn into bulky sweaty extra weight to carry around on my body at work. (the indoors being heated to 85 degrees all across the New England winterscape)

I can't take the dogs out to pee without spending ten minutes getting dressed (Brookline-ites tired of seeing me half asleep and half naked let out a cheer). But I can't complain (HA HA!). Soon it will take me a full hour to put on my "layers" that will culminate in my moon suit to repel the blood crystalizing cold and the horizontal sleet that we New Englanders now expect from November to April.

Sorry about all this. Go look at cottonmanifesto's pictures. Sorry especially to artemii whose weather-related complaints are a bit more substantial than mine. [But we only have about 6 hot days a year, and 200 cold ones]. Love to everybody! Brrrrrrr.

Comments

[urbpan.livejournal.com]

Yeah, listen to me bitch when it's crystal blue skies out, and I haven't endured repeated hurricanes. (the hurricanes, by the way, are a pre-election warning for Florida)

[(Anonymous)]

Oh, go ahead and bitch. I moved down here to get away from the cold, mean Boston winters. (and right into the hurricane belt. Fun! I've gotten used to driving in torrential downpours, at least it's not snow and ice.) I still hate the thought of them, and would be grumbling just like you if I were up there. Plus, your job and your commute (and your dogwalks) have you out in the elements a ton, so it's a big part of your existence.