There are two great truths I believe: everyone should be nicer, and it should not be cold in Southern California.
“It’s always 72 and sunny in LA.” That’s a line from Steve Martin’s “L.A. Story” and in the three years I’ve lived here I’ve found it to be true. So when I found myself today wearing a long sleeve shirt under a sweatshirt and a knit cap on the top of my head, I was sure that the Mayans had just missed it by a few weeks. Now I’m sure that your reaction will be somewhere between “Aww, poor baby” and “F@#K YOU” depending on where you might live. But I was cold!
When I frist moved here it was October and people were wearing fleeces in eighty degree weather. I couldn’t understand it. For the first six months I never wore long pants. The only reason I did switch from shorts is that I got a job as a US Census Crew Director so I had to look official. Shorts and a T-shirt is business casual here, but I had to look a little more respectful. But it was only cargo pants and I still had a short sleeve shirt on, no jacket.
Everyone told me my blood would thin. That is the statement that has been made since I moved here. That I would start to feel the subtler differences. But my Chicago skin has been forged over forty years and so it has not changed. I have not shed the skin for a Southern California wimpy version. Today I was cold because it was cold.
It was 55 degrees.