Today, I had to drop the Jeep off at the auto glass shop for a windshield replacement. Simple enough, and since the place is about 4 kilometers from the house, I thought I’d walk back. I’d done it before, in the summer, and it takes just under an hour.
Today also just happened to be the coldest day of the year, but I assured my husband that I would be fine, I’d dress warm and it would be OK. So I bundled up accordingly: thermal socks, sheepskin boots and mitts, touque, cowl, long underwear, undershirt, long-sleeve wool shirt, jeans, long Icelandic sweater, ski pants and parka. And when I set out, I knew it was -30*C.
Well. Five minutes into my walk, and I start to realize that I am terribly, horribly over-dressed. I am sweating like it’s the middle of summer, and it doesn’t take but another 10 minutes and I am drenched. It doesn’t matter that the windchill is making it feel like -43*C, I am so hot that when I took of my hood, there was steam rising from my touque. It also didn’t help that the city hadn’t plowed the sidewalks, it just added a whole new dimension (read: workout) to the walk. The only thing that was cold was my face because of the ice crystals forming in the cowl, and the condensation on my chin. I did pause a couple of times to wipe my nose and poke my face, just to make sure my cheeks weren’t in danger of frost bite. And so, on I marched.
I made it home just fine; drank lots of water when I got in the door, but really? I think I’m getting a little too accustomed to this whole “cold weather” thing. I think I need spring.