hot and cold

I texted this message to My Darling B last weekend, while I was out riding my bike: “OMG IT IS HOTTER THAN A BURNING HOT THING OUT HERE”

She was not sympathetic.  “It’s only 80 degrees.  That’s not hot.”

“OH IT IS TOO HOT YOU BIG FIBBER” I answered.  I don’t usually text in all caps, but the situation seemed to require it.

“I seem to remember SOMEONE saying 80 degrees is not hot – pleasant even.  Huh.”

Yes, it is true I said 80 degrees is not hot.  It’s on the warm side of a pleasant summer’s day, but only when the humidity is somewhere south of fifty percent.   I don’t believe there’s a jury of my peers who would disagree with me on that, so long as that jury does not include My Darling B.

B and I are at that point in our lives when the days that make us both feel comfortable are rare indeed.  In winter, I am always too cold.  In summer, she is always too hot.  Very occasionally, like maybe six or seven days a year, the temperature will hover around seventy-two and we can both agree that, yes, this is the perfect day.  On the other 359-ish days, B is dripping sweat or I’m slowly freezing solid and we are looking at each other like, What Is Wrong With You?

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