Unless I could snuggle up with a polar bear, a breed of animal that isn't particularly known for its cuddliness (except in stuffed animal form). I realized last weekend that either every residential and commercial building and vehicle in the D.C./Virginia/Maryland/West Virginia area blasts its A/C to maintain an unreasonably low temperature, or I have an extremely low threshold for cold tolerance. I feel like it must be the latter, since no one else here seems to be bothered by the freezing cold indoor environments.
There are myriad things about which I could complain here in Northern Virginia. Primarily, as a runner, the sidewalks here make no sense. Every sidewalk randomly ends sooner or later, much like the Shel Silverstein collection of poetry titled Where the Sidewalk Ends. Virginia, that's where, Shel. Also, no one makes eye contact on the metro unless it is to portray an angry death glare.
Okay, back to the internal temperature issue. It has gotten to the point where I am thrilled when I see a forecast predicting 90 degrees with high humidity. Hurrah! Air conditioning will finally make sense on those days! The worst part is just the grand juxtaposition between the temperature inside and outside in this part of the country. Outside, I would be fine on those toasty days in a nice skimpy sun dress, whereas inside I need to whip out my parka, snow pants and eskimo boots. Literally, a snowman would thrive in my office so long as he didn't venture outside. It would be the perfect place for Olaf from Frozen to hang out during the summer (for any of you who haven't seen that film if any of you still exist, Olaf is the snowman...).
There have been times during my work days where I literally go to the bathroom just to hold my hands under the hot water in the sink for a few minutes to bring some color back to their whitened flesh. My lips have actually turned blue from the freezing air in here. I feel like it is set to 60 degrees at most every place I go inside. People here are more wussy about the heat than they were in LA, and that is saying something.
A particular example from last weekend occurred on a bus at Harper's Ferry transporting me and other visitors from the welcome center to the town along the river. The instant I stepped on the bus, a chill descended upon me and I began to shiver as my arm hairs stood on end. My thoughts solely revolved around the very real-seeming possibility that I would contract hypothermia before our arrival, making it impossible to focus on the information provided by the guide.
I guess it is just me, though! Maybe I need to pack on some additional pounds like many of the others in this part of the country to get a nice layer of insulation like a walrus.
 |
| I would not do well... |
There are myriad things about which I could complain here in Northern Virginia. Primarily, as a runner, the sidewalks here make no sense. Every sidewalk randomly ends sooner or later, much like the Shel Silverstein collection of poetry titled Where the Sidewalk Ends. Virginia, that's where, Shel. Also, no one makes eye contact on the metro unless it is to portray an angry death glare.
Okay, back to the internal temperature issue. It has gotten to the point where I am thrilled when I see a forecast predicting 90 degrees with high humidity. Hurrah! Air conditioning will finally make sense on those days! The worst part is just the grand juxtaposition between the temperature inside and outside in this part of the country. Outside, I would be fine on those toasty days in a nice skimpy sun dress, whereas inside I need to whip out my parka, snow pants and eskimo boots. Literally, a snowman would thrive in my office so long as he didn't venture outside. It would be the perfect place for Olaf from Frozen to hang out during the summer (for any of you who haven't seen that film if any of you still exist, Olaf is the snowman...).
There have been times during my work days where I literally go to the bathroom just to hold my hands under the hot water in the sink for a few minutes to bring some color back to their whitened flesh. My lips have actually turned blue from the freezing air in here. I feel like it is set to 60 degrees at most every place I go inside. People here are more wussy about the heat than they were in LA, and that is saying something.
 |
| My face in the freezing cold office, expressing sheer hypothermic shock |
A particular example from last weekend occurred on a bus at Harper's Ferry transporting me and other visitors from the welcome center to the town along the river. The instant I stepped on the bus, a chill descended upon me and I began to shiver as my arm hairs stood on end. My thoughts solely revolved around the very real-seeming possibility that I would contract hypothermia before our arrival, making it impossible to focus on the information provided by the guide.
I guess it is just me, though! Maybe I need to pack on some additional pounds like many of the others in this part of the country to get a nice layer of insulation like a walrus.
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