Where's the Cold?

Long-time readers of this blog know I like it warm. I enjoy a day at the beach, sunning my pasty flesh to various shades of red that I fully expect to regret in my later years when I walk around like Nelly because I've had cancer spots frozen off my face. But I also enjoy seasons. After all, without cold, we cannot know warmth.

So any time the weather wants to cool down, I'm ready for it.

Come on, Ma Nature. It was cute a couple of weeks ago when I went apple picking and didn't need to wear a coat. It's kind of nice to have it warm because I can't afford a whole new fall wardrobe, so being able to wear my t-shirts for a while longer is nice. But it's dark before 8 p.m. and leaves are scuttling across the ground while I'm padding around in my flip-flops.

October baseball is all about the chill in the air, dramatic photographs of an athlete's breath hovering. The Sox aren't even wearing their red turtlenecks for the most part. One does not think of earth-shattering end-of-the-world baseball when it's sweltering hot out.

And my flannel sheets are on my bed. I want to pull the covers over me without needing to chug water when I wake up because I sweat so much.

Halloween should be cold for full effect.

Leaf peepers should be able to enjoy a hot cider after peeping all day.

Fall in New England is cold, Nature. So hop to it. But if you could warm it back up, I'd appreciate it.