Epiphany

Sometimes you can go weeks or months or years with certain assumptions, only to come to a sudden realization that they're wrong.

Maybe you spend a frustrating summer playing golf only to realize that it's really not good for you. Or you admit to yourself that you really like barbecue-flavored fried pork rinds. Or after years of clubbing it finally occurs to you that you're just a bad dancer.

Last night, on December 6, 2008, in my 38th year, I accepted that I hate winter.

I had just parked my car and was walking to a downtown bar when I had to stop at a traffic light. As the winter wind blew through my bones and my whole body clenched in response, my mind finally acknowledged what my body already knew: I hate this goddam weather.

Coming from a Midwesterner who grew up playing in the snow, this is almost heresy. I've always said I like Midwestern weather-- I like the change of seasons and the opportunity to wear seasonal clothing. There are certainly aspects of winter that I still like. I love the aesthetics of snow. Hot showers on a cold morning are one of life's joys. It's easier to sleep in cold weather than when it's warm. And don't forget snow days-- an academic's favorite friend.

But these things are overshadowed by the things I hate about winter.

I hate the shorter days and less sunlight. I hate all the time and energy I spend scraping ice and snow off of my windshield before I leave in the morning. I hate the germs that get spread around because we all are cooped up together. I hate not being able to open the windows and get fresh air. I hate the dry skin and chapped lips. I hate the (relatively) terrible mileage my Prius gets in cold weather. I hate having to choose between the comfort of a warm hat or messing up my hair. I hate being shut in and feeling like a hostage to the elements, and how that limits my options.

Some people prefer the cold to the unbearable heat in the summer. But here's the difference for me: When it's cold outside, especially with a strong wind, it actually causes physical pain. My skin hurts. My bones ache. My sphincter clinches. The summer heat may cause discomfort, but exposure to it is not painful the way the cold is.

When I was younger these things didn't bother me as much. In fact, there were times when I considered enduring a 0-degree temperatures (with a -17 wind chill) as a badge of honor. I liked the novelty of especially frigid weather. But over the years that's changed.

So my epiphany is not that I've always hated winter, but that I've come to hate it. I'm just too old for this shit. Not even 40 yet and I'm ready to retire to Florida.