You Are My (Lukewarm) Sunshine

So the one thing I would complain about from the conference trip is something that I've noticed a lot here. Here's the story.

When we were going to dinner, my former student suggested a little brewpub, and we enthusiastically agreed. When we arrived, a sign outside said that the patio was now open: Spring seems to have arrived, after all. The sky was wide-open and blue; the sun was high and bright. There was a nice breeze, and the temperature hovered near 72. No cloud dared intrude on the idyllic moment.

Naturally, I suggested we sit on the patio.

And the response? "It's too hot."

It's a good thing I hadn't found something to drink yet, as I'd have surely choked on it or possibly spit it out.

"Too hot?" I asked, stunned. "This is pretty much the definition of a perfect day."

"You're from Texas. You're used to this."

Used to 70 degrees? Yeah, at Christmas. If I was lucky. I don't care where you live: the day 70 degrees is too hot, you need to see your doctor and/or possibly be put down like a lame horse. I'm not sure what the ideal temperature is for folks from the area. Based on the numbers I've heard them complain about (in large numbers), I think it sits somewhere between 51 degrees and 53 degrees.

We wound up sitting inside - in the air condition, for Christ sakes. It makes no sense - and it feels like a tragedy to me. I just had to get it off my chest.