There are two cold fronts pushing through this week. One is supposed to hit within the next few hours and keep the temps in the low 70s (actually, I can handle that kind of cold front), but leave tomorrow’s temperatures struggling to get into the low 60s. It is Saturday that I’m really worried about. The predicted second-push cold front means it won’t get warmer than 48 degrees and, as if that weren’t miserable enough, there is a 20% chance of rain.
Considering I’ll be outside photographing my husband and daughter dressed as zombies and chasing 5K runners through the streets of Guthrie (I’ll explain more another time), I’m really not looking forward to this change in the weather. Sure, it’s feeling all cozy and autumn-ish, and I really do love this season, but you have to consider where it is I come from.
Here is what Elle and I did one late September day in Florida:
Here is what Elle and I did one January day in Florida:
Here is what Elle and I did one February day in Florida:
Last night, for the first time in years, I wore fuzzy socks to bed. However, I am still refusing to switch to flannel sheets, simply because…well, I’m stubborn? I think it would be fair to give the seasonal changes another month or so to transition into an everyday chilliness, but for now I am content to slide my icy feet under my husband’s legs (I am convinced his body heat is freakishly unnatural) until I fall asleep. Or I could just wear fuzzy socks to bed.