As a transplanted midwesterner, I find Florida's weather baffling. Here we are at the end of November, and the seasons are finally changing in St. Petersburg. Temperatures fluctuate from the 80s to the low 40s, depending on the day's mood. Persistent summer is mutating into bipolar fall.
I'm wearing the first sweater of my Florida residency, a brown-and-grey number that sat quietly in a car trunk for the past five months. Can you say musty? Well, you'd say it about this sweater. It's pleasant enough, although I keep wondering where my forearms have gone. Into the sleeves, I suppose.
The apartment is going through similar adjustment problems. The small heater puts out a bit too much heat for the still-mild climate. But I risk becoming a copy editing ice block without it. (The world's new superhero -- Ice Editor! Able to correct stories with a single swipe of his frigid pen!) I've tried running both heater and air conditioner at the same time, but that just seems wrong.
So I continue shivering and sweating. Sometimes I do a bit of both. Perhaps the weather will make up its mind soon.