Thanks to global warming, Hamilton is still lined with green grass and snow-free streets. Though I am a big fan of wearing shorts during the Canadian winter, the schizophrenic weather is proving to be more than just warmer winters. After days of tepid temperatures, yesterday felt like a cold slap in the face.
Cold weather and I have always had a dysfunctional relationship. Heartbreaking movies don’t inspire more than a sniffle, but there is something about the abusive icy winds always make my eyes water. As soon as the temperature dips below tolerable, I strategically change to waterproof mascara and prepare for my walks to class to be accompanied by tears. Yesterday was one such day. In an attempt to minimize my exposure to the frosty outdoors, I decided to bike to class. Biking there was great. The wind was so strong that getting to class was a breeze (har har). The way back; however, was like riding with an elastic band attached to the back of my bike. The closer I got to home, the harder it got to peddle. The wind was so strong that I was peddling just so that I could stay upright. Tears were streaming down my face. I could barely see, my legs had become faint cyclone-like blurs spinning parallel to my bike, and I was moving so slowly that old ladies were walking past me. The wind eventually persuaded me off my bike; though walking home was slower, it downgraded the wind to a less violating breeze.
Lesson learned: Being bullied by the weather is not worth it. Now that environment is PMSing, retreat indoors where you can play God and control the climate.
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