The Impending Cold

Another Connecticut winter is coming. What will this mean for the typical Connecticut resident?

This morning I stepped out of my car, and I could feel it. It was coming... the thing that drives me to secretly crank the heat even though it means a stern discussion from my mother. The thing that makes me dread showering in the morning because, eventually, I will have to leave the shower and enter my freezing bedroom. The force that compels me to disregard the thought that I will look like an idiot and race across the parking lot in the morning into the (semi) heated school. This object of my discomfort in the upcoming months can be no other than the typical Connecticut winter. It is almost here!

Winter is bipolar. In other words, it has two extreme personalities. Winter can be beautiful. Without it, we would not have snow angels, treks through the snow, a reason to drink hot chocolate, or, most importantly, snow days. I would not be able to sit in my sun porch and gaze out the windows that line every wall onto the snow covered yard and blanketed pine trees. There would be no need for big fuzzy sweaters, L.L Bean Sherpa fur-lined slippers, or fireplaces. I thank winter for these things that have become part of my life and that I really have grown to love. However, winter hides, within its snow banks, a secret evil that only a New England native can understand.

Feeling cold has to be the most uncomfortable and terrible thing in the world. Well, maybe not the MOST terrible, but it is on my top five list of things I hate. I must have terrible circulation or something similar to that, but I am constantly freezing in the winter time. Schools, especially our high school, are quite expensive to heat, so they do not provide me with proper warmth. Around this time every year, I sadly say goodbye to my t-shirts and skirts because if I do decide to wear one, I will have goose-bumps all day.

Winter is a drag because I must decide which is more important: looking cute or being warm. I do not like to wear baggy sweatshirts to school, but I am constantly envious of my friends that decide to pull one on instead of attempting to pile on four layers of thin fabric. A sweatshirt, although not the most form fitting or attractive look, is similar to curling up in a big, no-longer-fuzzy-after-a-few-washes blanket. This may not seem like a pressing issue to the common person, but it plagues me every morning as I strive to decide what I will wear that is not impractical for the weather conditions.

Even though winter can be pretty terrible, it gives me pride to be a Northerner. I went to stay overnight at Brown University the other weekend, and my freshman host was from Florida. She explained to me how that particular October afternoon was the same temperature as the coldest Florida day. It was barely necessary to wear a jacket that night. She had only witnessed snow upon her vacations up North. She owned only ONE PAIR OF JEANS. This, in itself, was ridiculous to me. In the morning, she put on a winter jacket and scarf to go to class in 60 degree weather!

We Northerners are tough, yet respectable for our appreciation for nature. We know its capabilities. We have seen six-foot high snowbanks and have shoveled our driveways since we were born. We understand the value of owning an ice scraper for our cars and own multiple scarves. We (kind of) have major bragging rights as skiers and snowboarders. We have learned how to see through the disgusting dirt-covered snowbanks that line the streets in January and February and realize that, soon, a fresh layer will hide the ugliness of the roads.

Those certain Northerners, like myself, who grumble about the cold and the upcoming winter, should put on their fall jackets and enjoy the crisp autumn afternoons. It is absolutely beautiful outside right now. The leaves have completely changed colors and the sky has that clear, empty feeling that only fall days contain. For now, I will attempt to enjoy my jeans-tank-top-t-shirt-sweater-jacket layering masterpiece and suck it up in certain classes where the teachers insist on opening the windows, even though it is basically two degrees outside.

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