Katarina vs. the heater

    Every year, when warm summer breezes come to an end, when the leaves begin to fall, when various types of squash pop up in my favorite supermarkets, I have an intense stand off with my heater. It's a game of chicken that I always eventually lose. "It's not cold enough to turn on the heat yet" I say to myself. "Just put a sweater on".

    I like the nip of autumn chill, I love the cold nose, and pert feeling that the sudden drop in temperature gives me. After a humid, suffocating summer, I finally feel alive, like I've awakened from a long dreary listless period spent in a poorly functioning sauna. 

     Summer is like being in a long-haul Dramamine-addled red-eye flight; it's a half-dream that one stumbles through, maybe even pleasantly so at first. I personally welcome the end of this confusing stupor every year, as I re-awaken with the fresh biting wind of the fall.

     So no, I’m not going to turn the heat on and lounge around in my shorts like it’s the middle of July.  I’m going to wait until my toes turn blue and I’m bedridden with the flu, and then I will ever so reluctantly give up and lose that annual game of chicken with my heater.