I had a restless night, and this morning I woke up sweaty, my hair doing crazy swirls around my head. I mention this only because it is November 23rd, and I have not yet turned on the heater in my room. Not once this year. My room, with its many cold-air-admitting cracks, has maintained a temperature that is usually perfect for me to sleep in, without the aid of the air conditioner or the heater. Last night was apparently warmer than I am used to now – hence the sweating.

And it is November 23rd.

I know that I can’t be the only person who misses snow, though it is a very Buffalonian thing to talk about how wary you are of the coming winter. This year, we may have reason to be wary. I’ve heard reports that Lake Erie probably won’t freeze over all the way, which will cause blizzards and hail and freezing rain and slush from the sky (I don’t consider slush from the sky to be the same as freezing rain, and although slush from the sky isn’t nearly as dangerous as freezing rain, it is somehow more disconcerting to me. Seriously, big blobs of slush, falling from the sky and hitting the ground with weird squish sounds).

So when I say that I miss snow, I want it understood that I am talking about SNOW snow, pretty, picturesque, not terribly dangerous, not piled over our heads. I don’t want anyone to freeze to death, but I do want to take out my long plum wool coat and wear the heck out of it. I want to be able to wear my sweaters without, you know, sweating. I haven’t even taken out my gloves and my scarves yet, though I’ve seen people gamely wearing their winter accessories around town, even on the recent days when it was in the 60s.

I have been enjoying short sleeves and pretty skirts and shoes while I can, while the weather is nice, but this is the time of year when I long to bundle. I want to see my breath, and I want to crave things like chili and soup and hot chocolate. I want to pile on layers of clothing, I want to pull on cozy snow boots.

Now, if the winter is as crazy as I described above (re: Lake Erie not freezing over like it should), I reserve the right to complain about it as much as I want. And, as always, I reserve the right to lament my winter wardrobe doldrums from about mid-February until spring finally appears.


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