I’m sitting in my swingy chair on the balcony wearing a light cotton slip, listening to the soothing afternoon chirrup of the crickets, looking out over the sweltering blue sky and sipping an iced coffee.
This is my world right now….
And then someone I know sends me this (along with a smiling faced emoticon, for which I will never forgive them)…
I’m already teetering close to tears most days about the thought of leaving Bali. Now I just want to curl into a ball and sob for hours on end.
I know you think I’m being a wimp. And hell yes, you would be right. But the cold and I are not friends. In fact, if the cold was a person I would be throwing jicama at its head (Jicama is a vegetable like a potato just in case you don’t know – I certainly didn’t before I moved here so there’s no shame in not knowing that).
Last night in Bali it was probably 80 degrees and I was wearing jeans and a jumper. I slept under two blankets. I don’t do cold. I can’t. That’s not to do with being spoiled – OK, maybe it is a bit – but it’s also to do with the weird fact that my basal temperature rests a good degree lower than what’s considered ‘normal’ (just like the rest of me).
Various reasons for this temperature anomaly have been put forward:
- The thermometer is broken
- I’m a vampire
- I’m a cold-hearted bitch with ice for blood (this one not to my face, but I know there are people out there who would suggest this as a reason (ex boyfriends for example), so I’m getting in there first).
- I have a thyroid problem.
Let’s go with the second or the fourth option.
My point though is I really, really feel the cold. And this isn’t even cold. This is ARCTIC. This is polar bear weather. OK. Now I actually am crying.
At least, I tell myself, forcing some optimism, I work from my bed. And though it won’t be a mosquito net draped bed and there will be no view of palm trees swaying in the distance it will have a luxury electric blanket on it with FIVE heat settings (can I set all 5 at once?). I picture my M&S delivery of thermal tights.
No. I’m still crying.
I look up quotes on winter for some inspiration and find this one:
“What good is the warmth of summer, without the cold of winter to give it sweetness?” – John Steinbeck.
Sorry Steinbeck, I don’t need an arctic front to remind me how awesome the sun and warmth is, in the same way that I don’t need to swallow a mouthful of vinegar in order to appreciate how good ice cream tastes.
Which leaves me with Camus: “In the depth of winter I finally learned that there was in me an invincible summer.”
Let’s see about that one Camus. I just hope you’re right.