Every time my father calls he asks me “Is it really as cold as it looks up there?” The answer is yes, and it’s probably colder.
I have learned to appreciate the subtle differences between 7, 17, 27 and 37 degrees fahrenheit. Seven (7) is miserable, no matter how many layers of clothing you have on, seventeen (17) is pretty miserable too, as is twenty-seven, especially if the wind is blowing. Thirty-seven (37) isn’t half bad, when compared with the other 7-options, again, as long as the wind isn’t blowing. Forty-seven (47) and Fifty-seven (57) are wonderful.
According to Gavin, I overdress. “It’s not that cold out.” No, the high is just 20-something with a wind-chill dropping it into the teens. Clearly it’s not cold enough for me to pile on a few layers before I venture out.
The wind is the bane of my early morning commutes. Even with my long down coat (mid calf-length), my nearly knee-high boots, thick woolen knee socks, gloves, hat, scarf and hood, it finds a way to swirl around me, up my coat chilling me to the bone.
On days it is quite bright, I would wear sunglasses, but when I do, my breath condenses between the attachment and my glasses and fogs them up so badly I can hardly see. With my coat snapped and zipped, the hood/hat blocking my peripheral vision, and glasses fogged up, I stagger around a good deal (some days I can’t feel my feet, or hit an icy patch, I really must be quite a sight).
As for our apartment, the thermal curtains have made quite a difference, the kitchen is about 20 degrees lower than the rest of the place, and drafts that blow out the gas on the stove (I have become a far more cautious cook). You can also see the wind sneaking around our window-AC units blowing the curtains around (I am going to hang towels or something over them to help with this).
The thermostat makes a blue spark. It also does not matter what one’s husband says, when the high is 27 the down coat is a necessity, not “a bit much.”
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