It was 64 in the apartment yesterday morning until Hania put the heater on. It is bad enough having to get up at 5:30 without the added insult of a frigid bathroom. I turned it off before lunch.
Today the temperatures are supposed to get progressively warmer; indoors it is already 69. I would welcome these occasional cold spells if only I didn't have an aversion to heating. It seems to defeat the whole purpose of living in Florida. As does closing the windows, though they are closed at the moment. And I'm writing this in felt slippers, flannel pajama bottoms, and a flannel shirt over a long-sleeved T-shirt. I haven't shaved in three days, or washed my hair. But I'm not turning on the heater. And in a few minutes I'm opening the windows. I can always put on a sweater. I can make it through this winter.
