...and what do I see?
Now, I've lived in Eugene for a while. I have come to accept that, unlike in Southern California, it is not uncommon for water to fall spontaneously from the sky. I have even come to understand that it may occasionally arrive in the form of fluffy white crystals (the most adorable state of matter yet known). But something inside me still bubbles with glee every time I find myself in the aftermath of a flurry. A flurry! The most we ever got in Poway was a few seconds out of class to go stare at the hail which fell every once in a million years.
Nevertheless, my joy is tempered with some practical problems. The main one is that I need to get to my girlfriend's house. Well, need is a strong word, but I really want to. It's warm there, and my girlfriend wants to cuddle, and also maybe breakfast? That might be there too. Regardless, that's where I want to be, and that isn't here.
I'm not going to drive there, because it looks scary. I keep thinking I might need to put chains on my tires, and how do you even do that? I don't know how. I certainly wouldn't want to go spinning off some patch of ice and explode into an ironically fiery death. I also wouldn't want to embarrass myself by putting chains on a car for a flurry. I imagine the battle-hardened souls here are used to wearing chains for nothing less than a blizzard. I don't want to appear weak in front of the battle-hardened souls.
That means I'm hoofing it, I suppose. But make no mistake, it's cold out there. Thirty two degrees. If my understanding of physics is correct, prolonged exposure to these sorts of temperatures will cause all the water in my body to freeze solid, and I'm pretty sure that would be bad for me. Dying in a heap under some modest snow dunes isn't really my goal, either.
So it's sweaters. Plural. And also a jacket, and gloves, and maybe a portable space heater tied to my back? I haven't figured out how to keep it supplied with power while I walk. Some hefty socks wouldn't be a bad idea either. I've seen some pretty grisly depictions of Valley Forge, and I like my toes too much to put them through that. Thermal underwear? Perhaps a mug of warm soup? Or one of those Saint Bernards with a cask of brandy tied around its neck. But that would require making it to a pet store first. Damn!
Anyway, I'm going now. I'm needed elsewhere! If you don't hear from me later this week, assume I died nobly, crossing a windswept frozen plain. Or that I forgot to update again, as I so often do.