ManicDDaily

Brrr.....

I wake up in a very chilly bedroom this morning–no heat and a big window always slides open at the top, only closing again through some precarious sill-standing and serious neck-wrenching–with a need to pack for Florida.

Ah.

There are moments when the waterlogged air and smouldering concrete of the Sunshine State really do seem to beckon.  Not to mention the deep blue expanse on hatted head, the warmth on bare arms, the crunch of Bermuda grass under Birks.

Then I read that the temperature at my planned destination (the “Space Coast”) is currently 43 degrees!

That’s not much better than my bedroom!  Where I have down!

Who has down in Florida?  There’s something about even wool in Florida that feels icky.  Sticky.  Thick.  (It’s not exactly sheep country.)

I don’t mean to be hard on Florida but, well, it’s more like fleece country.  (You know, the stuff made out of plastic bottles.)

I’ll stop.  The state is really tremendously beautiful, or would be, if you took away some of the houses and banks. drive-in medical facilities and strip malls, golf courses and SUVs, beach side condos and hotels, and even a couple of bikini shops.   (Maybe not bikini shops.)

It will also be in the upper 60s during the day, maybe even higher.

Ah.