I have been telling people how soft I'm getting with respect to the weather. Given that it has been roughly 70-75°F in L.A. for the past couple of weeks or so, I woke up Friday morning at the crack of dawn. Going outside, I felt the "cold" seep into me, and I was abashed when I discovered that the ambient temperature was actually 50°.

So it was with quite a bit of apprehension that I flew out to Chicago today, especially since I couldn't find my beanie, my scarf, or my gloves. I thought I would die on the walk from the L station to my apartment. Ironically, it was lucky that it was snowing, 'cause otherwise it would've been way too cold.

So I am quite cozily ensconced in my apartment right now, with the heat blaring at 73°, and procrastinating about packing for my flight to Miami tomorrow. (I will, again, have to trudge through the snow to get to the L, but hopefully no more will accumulate overnight. Fingers crossed.)

I am quite convinced that I need to get away from here and leave cold winters behind. How fate feels about this, though, is anyone's guess.