In order to be room temperature, you’d think one would first have to be in a room. Not the case. I’ve uncovered the roomless area that is, in fact, room temperature.
I’ve been living in the hometown of Ron Burgandy for a little over a week now and I already feel vindicated from the endless weather complaints that have been absorbed by my family, friends, and ex-friends (those who’ve ceased friendship due to passing a weather complaint threshold). It’s too great for words. Upon waking up to natural sunlight (every day), I take a quick walk outside just to remind myself that being outside is a real option. I don’t have to take ten minutes adding layers on top of layers to make sure I completely insulate myself from the world around me. Instead, I quickly slide on some gym shorts (for the neighbors sake), shoes, and….that’s it – I’m out the door. Granted, at 9 in the morning, 60 degrees might rouse a few goosebumps, but when I get an e-mail from my dad telling me that it’s NEGATIVE TWENTY SIX back home, they somehow quickly subside. (Quick side note: 60 degrees should never be 86 degrees warmer than my previous home, that’s too big of a culture shock). After spinning the wheel of outside activities: beach, hike, jog, frisbee golf, etc., I often land on “walk around aimlessly”. Not only is it an exciting way to get to know a new city, but above all, I can….in the middle of January. A couple of hours into my casual stroll I detect this strange feeling coming from my face. Noticing my reflection in a street side window I’m relieved to find out this bizarre sensation turns out only to be a smile. This leads me to the hypothesis that smiles migrate southwest in the colder months. Instead of finishing the walk at an Olympic record pace due to fear of frostbite, I decide that my legs are getting tired so I lay down in a patch of perfectly groomed grass and read (I brought a book in case of such an emergency). No more than 8 pages into it, I’m in a state somewhere between light sleep and conscious ecstasy, in no rush to do anything different with my day. When I finally come-to, my surroundings are filled with dogs joyously galloping around their owners, parents playing frisbee with their kids, shirtless hippies singing about saving the world, and the constant ebb and flow of the ocean waves collapsing onto the sand. Upon my return back home, as I walk in the door, I get a jolting feeling that something is askew. Something has changed – I’m convinced of it. I retrace my steps back out the door, and in again. Then it hits me. As I step back inside, the temperature remains constant. It feels exactly the same inside the apartment walls as it does on the outside. No change at all…
That’s a change I’m looking forward to getting used to.