HUMOR
How Not to Wear a Hat
The tiny pleasures of winter.
Having woken up to yet again not having won $1.4 billion in the Powerball drawing (think of all the cereal I could buy), I rejoiced that it was cold outside.
Last week it was 85 degrees. Today it’s 45 and windy, which makes it feel like 35 because, science.
I like it cold. Not bone-chilling, eyeball-freezing cold, but not hot.
When you’re hot, you can never get comfortable. You’re either sweating through your bra (at least some of us, anyway — no judging) or you’re rubbing your arms because the AC is on and now you’re freezing to death.
If you’re me, everybody’s complaining that they’re cold in their cool, dim offices, while I fry like an ant under a magnifying glass in the front of the building where all the windows are.
In the summer, there’s no in-between. There’s no temperate zone to the globe that is my body. And you can only strip down so much before somebody calls the cops.
But you can get warm.
You can control your layerings and choice of fabrics — you can seek out heating aids if necessary, and you can usually at least be comfortable.
