Obviously, it's hot out here in Boston. And I don't know about you, but this kills me more than the cold.
With the cold, you can do something about it. Layers, pants, boots, coats, hats, scarves, and mittens. Those things will help you! But when it's hot, you have no choices. You can only suffer.
And suffer I do. I try not to whine, but I've never been one for the heat. Except for those glorious few minutes when you step outside of your exquisitely sinful central air and the humidity doesn't hit you for awhile, anyway.
So while friends and coworkers rave about how it's finally summer, I sulk in quietness, waiting for 75 and breezy.
I am a northern girl, baby.