At some point every winter, I start thinking about moving somewhere warm. This year, I've made a concerted effort to be positive. I even joke around about it with one of my students. He moved to Chicago from San Diego six months ago, so this is the first winter of his life, and I've started asking him, "How's the weather treating you?" He's a good sport about it, and usually shakes his head sadly and says something like, "Man, I never knew how good I had it. When you live somewhere like San Diego, you never even think about the weather."
I was thinking about that yesterday as I headed off to work. Here we do think about the weather, so I was bundled up. Sweater, gloves, hat, winter coat. "Come on," I thought to myself as I walked out of my building, "this isn't so bad."
Literally five steps later, I slipped on a patch of ice. Didn't fall. Didn't even almost fall. But I felt my left leg slipping forward, almost bending my knee the wrong way. I felt just a little achy the rest of the day.
After school, one of my colleagues stopped by and we chatted about winter break. "I think we've decided on San Diego," he said about himself and his girlfriend.
"Wow," I said, "I was just looking at airfares there last night. The best I found was $250 there and $99 back. On Southwest. Funny how it's so cheap to fly to Chicago in the middle of winter."
It's a week and a half before winter break, and I still don't have plans. And I guess that sounds bad. But then again, at least I've got two weeks off coming up. I need a break from the kids.