Some Like it Cold

Some folks like it cold.
They like the frosty air, the nippy breeze that blows through clothes and fiddles with your hair.
They love it when it snows, when there's sleet or ice, or fog. 
They revel in the wild and wet, they jump and dance and hop.

But some of us are not so keen.  We really prefer it warm. 
We like to keep all toasty by the fireside in a storm.
We like mild, sunny days when the breeze is cool, not cold. 
We don't like getting wet and we don't like a streaming runny nose. 
Some of us just like it fine, predictable, not wild. 
We really don't appreciate the wildness and the storm. 
We can't stand icy fingers and goose bumps up our arms.
Even if we know it really won't do us any harm.

Some folks like it cold.
My husband is one. 
He loves the snow, he loves the mist, he loves it when it pours. 
He checks the rain gauge and ponders, wondering how long this storm will linger. 
He feels disappointed if the clouds don't open.  He wants the heavy wind, and he really wants the thunder. 
He lies awake at night, watching lightening streak the sky. 
He lives for crazy weather, this crazy man of mine.

It's not that I hate rain.  It's that I hate getting wet.  I'll go outside, for sure if you give me hat, boots, and brolly.
And as for the cold?  Well, I don't mind nippy air.  It's the frozen fingers, frozen toes, frozen nose, and coldness that I fear.
I am the layer queen.  I've found I just love wool.  A merino top, or three or four, or else I'll still be cool. 
I love my fingerless gloves, I wear them all day long. I knit in them, I sleep in them, there's a spare pair in my bag. 

It's not my fault, it really isn't.  I just don't like it cold.

Amy