It's some mix of the aging process, weight fluctuations, patience, and expectations.
By aging process, I mean the physical changes, and the mental changes [which, as we all know, are actually also physical changes, but we continue to delude ourselves, or fall back on easy language, that "mental" processes are somehow distinct from the physiology. but i digress . . . .] accompanying all this old guy shit.
Just five years ago, I not only tolerated cold, but I frequently welcomed, or even relished it. In the 90s, when I would make my little sojourns to the great northern expanses of cold, I freakin' loved it. Travels to New York in winter of '93, '94, and '95 were all handled with a little black leather jacket, and a love of the rolling winds down the avenues.
No more. No fucking more.
Walking the nighttime streets of that teeming metropolis this weekend, I was just freakin' miserable. I was bundled up, more than in the old days, and I just wanted to get tucked into a fireplace somewhere.
The air temperature yesterday morning was 14 degrees Fahrenheit where I was doing my bidness, and the wind chill was rumoured to be below zippy. Snappy thoughts of nuclear exchanges bustled through my head. I was freakin' miserable.
My days of going out in the cold without a coat may be . . . over. This could change lunchtimes forever.