Feeling an appropriate chill in the November air, Philadelphia woman Dawn Low, 27, recently packed away her summer clothes and swapped them for her winter wardrobe of cozy sweaters, thick tights, wool pencil skirts and knee-high boots.
The next day was sunny and 76 degrees.
“I can’t tell you how betrayed I feel,” says Low, sitting in her darkened kitchen wearing a light sweater and corduroy pants next to a stack of plastic boxes full of bathing suits. “Is it a nice day outside? Yes it is. Do I want to go out there? No I do not.” Shaking her head, she adds, “I spent six hours packing.”
As the nice day progressed, Low briefly considered tapping back into her summer clothing stash, but decided against it when she remembered how long it had taken to put everything away the first time.
“It’s November,” says Low. “It’s going to get cold eventually.”
From her kitchen window, Low could see the neighbor kids running through the sprinkler, people in shorts walking their dogs, and small groups of bikers whizzing down the street in tank tops.
“Look at these losers,” says Low. “They’re in denial. It’s 76, but it’s a November 76! Stop sunbathing!!”
Low spent much of the nice day checking weather apps to see when it was supposed to turn cold again.
“So far it looks like next week. Like maybe ten days from now,” says Low, whose plans for the rest of the week include joining an embroidery class, going to three movies, and cooking indoors with the shades drawn. “I can’t wait until all those suckers get slapped with some reality.”
Meanwhile, Low’s best friend Meghan Domino, 28, has been taking advantage of the warm weather to run in the mornings and work on the tan she didn’t have time for this summer.
“I don’t know where Dawn is,” says Domino, while covertly sipping from a thermos of margarita. “But that’s okay. All I want to do is bask in whatever sunlight we’ve got left before the long, dark winter. I get pretty bad seasonal depression, so this sunlight is a godsend!”
At press time, Low was seen adding various cans of beans to a crockpot, repeatedly muttering, “I am right.”