My heater turned on this weekend. Not necessarily a big event, but it did signify that winter might actually occur in Phoenix, albeit briefly. A week ago I was putting up Christmas lights in shorts and a T-shirt. That just doesn’t seem right.
A high of 59 on Sunday may seem balmy to my brother in Burlington, Vt., but here, that qualifies as sweater weather. Of course the forecast is that temperatures will be back in the low 70s by the end of the week.
My daughter and her husband are coming in from Boston for the holiday, as is my other daughter from DC, and they’ll be happy with the 70s.
I wouldn’t mind a few more evenings of being able to see my breath when I take the dog out for a walk at night. It just seems a little more normal to wear a jacket when you’re looking at Christmas lights.
And I wouldn’t mind throwing a couple of real logs in the fireplace on Christmas Eve (just don’t rat me out to the county air quality monitors.)
On the other hand, my heater is 20 years old and every time I hear it groaning to start up I know it's living on borrowed time until I have to replace it.
