To state the obvious, this has been a cold winter. My husband told me a few days ago that the normal high for late February is in the 40s.
Like most people, I prefer temperate weather. My definition of temperate is partly to mostly sunny, in the 55 to 80 degree range. Winters here in Northern Illinois rarely bother me all that much, as most of the days don't get bitterly cold. This year has been almost unbearable. The ten days we spent in Florida earlier this month seem like a dream, just a figment of my imagination.
We keep our thermostat set at 58 degrees at night, and normally no higher than 64 during the day. If it's set higher, it's likely we have company. My typical coping mechanisms are thick slipper socks, sweaters, sweatshirts, and blankets for the couch. Usually these things work. Not this year. My toes are cold. I'm wearing slipper socks with slippers over top of them. I don't really like socks.
I'm waiting, impatiently, for the weather to break. I need to open windows and let the fresh air inside.
