Sweater Weather, or Sweating Weather?

To the relief of most people living in the south, the temperature has finally dropped about 20 below the price of gas.

So even though it feels like 380 degrees outside today -- and it felt like 400 degrees outside yesterday -- I just finished bringing my wool sweaters down from the attic. After all, 20 degrees lower can mean the difference between life and death for someone so closely related to a reptile.

(I'm not saying which of my family members I just called a snake.) (Honest, Aunt Agatha, I was only referring to your body temperature.)

I thought the whole cold natured thing would get better with age, but imagine my shock when I realized it only gets worse. I discovered this inadvertently through 2 experiences:

1. Being forced to hold Aunt Agatha's frigid hand as a child
2. Putting my feet on my husband's side of the bed last night. (The result was similar to that of a rocket shooting out of the bed. Coaxing him out of the closet took more peace-talks than the Middle East.)

So, say what you will, but there's a reason I'm wearing a wool sweater to bed tonight. And there's a reason the microwave just beeped.

My socks are ready.