This recent stretch of glorious weather has me wearing next to nothing and loving every second of it. I was discussing with my friend about how every year since ’02 or so, January randomly has a week or two of sixty and seventy degree weather. It’s like Mother Nature is a tease, and she gives you a few moments of shorts-wearing bliss and then throws you into the misery of February through April.
Anyway, my friend and I discussed the fact that Christmas and Thanksgiving were unseasonably warm, as well. On Thanksgiving, I had to run some errands in the morning before I headed to my friend’s place. I rolled out of bed, in a t shirt and gym shorts, threw on some sandals, a hoodie, and a ball cap, and strolled out to run errands. As I walked back to my place, whiskey and flowers in hand, I was literally chased by a TV producer who asked to talk to me. He then taped me walking down the street and interviewed me for sound bites about how it was warm enough to wear shorts on Thanksgiving. Once we wrapped, I said, “Days like this make me happy for global warming.” The producer didn’t really enjoy that sentiment.
But what it comes down to is that he pulled a double whammy on me – I hate looking like shit in public, and I hate inane chatter and small talk. This guy taped me looking like shit and discussing the fucking weather. It couldn’t have been worse.
Except that my friend then pointed out that I would have been dressed the same way, in shorts and sandals, if it were 20 degrees instead of 70. Can’t really deny that, to be honest.