Warm, sunny and miserable
This morning I read an amusing article from David Grimes of the Sarasota Herald Tribune. I thought you might enjoy it as well.
Yes, it's 75 and sunny, and yes, it's early February, but we're not as happy as you would think.
There is always the threat of a cold front. Occasionally, the temperature will plummet to a frigid 62. This is cause for universal alarm and panic. Extra blankets are hauled out of the closets. Air conditioners are turned down to low. Furniture is burned in a futile attempt to stay warm.
Oh, yes, you Northerners scoff at our travails, but you have no idea. It has been dry lately and our lawns are looking a little brown. Your lawns are covered in snow. Looking out upon a semi-green lawn in February is so depressing, we sometimes forget to use sunblock and get over-tanned.
Driving is another reason we're miserable. Since it has been warm and sunny recently, we have been obligated to drive with the tops down on our convertibles. This has resulted in mussed hair and additional over-tanning. It is also hard to hear our Beach Boys CDs when the wind is ruffling our Hawaiian shirts.
I have lived up North in February, and it is a beautiful thing. You start the day by hacking the ice off of your car. Then you slide down the road into a 12-car pileup. Then you return home with the flu. This pattern repeats itself until early April.
Because of our nice weather, we remain disgustingly healthy here in Florida, which gives us little to talk about.
While you folks up North get to commiserate at parties about your colds, flu and general ague, we are left to discuss the stock market, real estate prices and Hillary Clinton's emotional stability. Trust me, these conversations seldom turn out well.
People think coming to Florida for a winter vacation is a good idea, but they are wrong.
Everyone here is sunburned and cranky. The real estate market is in the tank. Our roads are lined with orange construction cones. Jimmy Buffett isn't as young as he used to be.
When I go out and fetch the paper in the morning, I shiver.
Not because it's cold (it isn't), but because I know I'm going to have to squeeze a dozen oranges from the backyard tree for our Sunday-morning screwdrivers.
Who can put up with that kind of pressure?
Yes, it's 75 and sunny, and yes, it's early February, but we're not as happy as you would think.
There is always the threat of a cold front. Occasionally, the temperature will plummet to a frigid 62. This is cause for universal alarm and panic. Extra blankets are hauled out of the closets. Air conditioners are turned down to low. Furniture is burned in a futile attempt to stay warm.
Oh, yes, you Northerners scoff at our travails, but you have no idea. It has been dry lately and our lawns are looking a little brown. Your lawns are covered in snow. Looking out upon a semi-green lawn in February is so depressing, we sometimes forget to use sunblock and get over-tanned.
Driving is another reason we're miserable. Since it has been warm and sunny recently, we have been obligated to drive with the tops down on our convertibles. This has resulted in mussed hair and additional over-tanning. It is also hard to hear our Beach Boys CDs when the wind is ruffling our Hawaiian shirts.
I have lived up North in February, and it is a beautiful thing. You start the day by hacking the ice off of your car. Then you slide down the road into a 12-car pileup. Then you return home with the flu. This pattern repeats itself until early April.
Because of our nice weather, we remain disgustingly healthy here in Florida, which gives us little to talk about.
While you folks up North get to commiserate at parties about your colds, flu and general ague, we are left to discuss the stock market, real estate prices and Hillary Clinton's emotional stability. Trust me, these conversations seldom turn out well.
People think coming to Florida for a winter vacation is a good idea, but they are wrong.
Everyone here is sunburned and cranky. The real estate market is in the tank. Our roads are lined with orange construction cones. Jimmy Buffett isn't as young as he used to be.
When I go out and fetch the paper in the morning, I shiver.
Not because it's cold (it isn't), but because I know I'm going to have to squeeze a dozen oranges from the backyard tree for our Sunday-morning screwdrivers.
Who can put up with that kind of pressure?
Labels: Miscellaneous, Sarasota News
posted by Marc Rasmussen at
5:34 AM
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