But it's not like, cold-cold.

That honor is reserved for Southwestern homes wherein one only turns on the heat if one really cannot stand it, in the dead of winter, after putting on all the clothing one owns.

And one only turns on the a/c in the summer when one is about to pass out.

Frost on the ground? Yawn. I'm pretty bundled up when we go outside, and I sort of stomp around a lot and clap my gloved hands together when I have to.

It isn't anything to write home about. After all, it ain't like my sister-in-law's place in Phoenix around Christmastime: here, the house is heated 24/7 with an ultra-efficient fireplace.

Though I must admit that it was odd, the way people talked all over town about winter sunshine, and how wonderful it is. One might almost be tempted to think that it's rare in Washington State.

Almost.

Sun deck. Yeah, the ferry had a sun deck. And I went up there to do battle with the wind and the cold. A snippet of sun floated out from over the water, taunting me for my weakness and reminding me that this wasn't like skiing—there was nothing I could do,exactly, to make things feel warmer. So I took pictures, hatless. (I hadn't wanted to lose my favorite, and warmest, hat, should it be blown off of my stupid head and into Puget Sound.) I shivered.

And I hustled inside the ferry room again to warm up, amusing myself by reading real estate listings from the suburbs of Seattle, wherein one can buy large single-family dwellings for about $10 apiece.

The disadvantage being that one has to live in Washington State. Where, you know . . . it's brisk. Chilly, even.

Posted by: Attila Girl at 03:49 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
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