I won’t live in Houston forever. I may not live in Texas forever. Wherever Mark and I go next is likely to have more clearly defined seasons. While I’ll embrace some of what that entails, like maybe not sweating in April, I will probably look fondly back at the coldest week of the year in Houston. That week is now. I was so cold when I came home from Toastmasters tonight that I stuck my feet in Mark’s bath. My fingers still hurt for several minutes after I came into the warm house.
My winter pajamas are useful most of the year because in our house Mark is always sweating and I’m always shivering, but for a week or two each year I feel justified because, finally, everyone else is cold, too. Overnight temperatures plunge into the 20s and people put frost blankets over their tropical plants in hopes that they’ll survive. Finally I look normal wearing a sweater in the office (where it is ALWAYS winter), and sometimes the building manager even turns the heat on!
My favorite part of cold weather in Houston is its brevity (and that it allows me to have SOME cozy clothes and coats, which I love). The temperature should be back into the 70s in the blink of an eye. Of course, I’ll still be wearing my winter clothes, because when else am I going to wear them? (Also, because I’ll still be cold.)
Completely unrelated to any of the rest of this post, I saw one of the buildings downtown doing this on my way home tonight (click for video):
I don’t know what that’s about, but I think it may have been inspired by some of the psychedelic holiday lights in my neighborhood that are still up.