Too Cold For Me

The brisk chill buffets one's sensibilities. Granted the predicament is exasperated by my own habit of throwing on a light jacket on my way out the door. I can feel the marrow in my bones fight turning to ice with spasmodic shudders, while those with roots from elsewhere gallivant around in shorts. The sun rises impotently, providing light without warmth. Consciousness is a but a faint memory as all energy focuses on sustaining an upright position. Don't the high property prices warrant an expectation of a year-round temperate climate? The dash from house to car to office to car to coffee house is probably the only thing that protects others from the unfortunate experience of coming across my stiff, frozen body lying with arms tragically outstretched—as if the hot cup of coffee whose reviving warmth between my hands was just out of reach. Such are the winter traumas of a Southern Californian.