I'm in Florida now, where people who see you walking around in shorts when it's in the sixties will think you're insane (and that's insane by Floridian standards, which is actually something of accomplishment). But as a Chicagoan refugee, it's really hard not to laugh. Less so when you encounter people who genuinely believe that snow is a myth, though.

Truth be told, part of me misses the cold sometimes, though, and not just in summers hot as the Devil's armpit; piercing cold gives you a sense of urgency that a lot of folks down here seem to lack. I mean, you can always put on MORE clothes, but you rapidly reach a point where you can't put on less.