Open Thread Mondays: It’s Cold And I’m Not Happy

I hate the snow. I hate the cold. I hate winter.

This weather, this season – it brings me no joy. I’m a Grinch.

No, I don’t look out the window and say, “Ooh-la-la, it’s so pretty.” The first glittery flakes tumbling from the sky don’t fill me with awe. It doesn’t make me pine for that childhood innocence, running out and making snow angels or any of that crud.

It just makes me shiver. And it makes my feet wet.

I hate having wet feet.

Last year I got to miss winter. Not like, “Oh, I miss it,” but actually miss it as in was not here for it. That’s the best kind of “miss it.”

I spent my December (and the months bracketing it) in Peru. It was summer there. It was in the 80s, sunny, warm. I wore t-shirts and shorts, and sat outside drinking Cusqueña beer and smoked cigarettes and joked with friends.

I can’t sit outside in this. My beer would be absolutely unendurable, and since Peruvian beer is very much like water, it would likely be frozen.

When winter came around in the southern hemisphere, I was there then, too. In Lima it never dropped below 50 degrees, and that was evening weather.

Again I sat outside, I drank beer, I smoked cigarettes.

Maybe I’m a glass-half-empty kind of guy. But when I see snow, I think of those times in Peru or any other time and place where weather is accommodating, beer is cheap, and company is plenty.

I really hate snow. And the cold. And winter.