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I Don’t Like Cold Weather

Human beings are the most adaptable animals on the planet. From our cradle in Africa, to North America, humans have spread across all kinds of terrain and climates, using tools to adapt from the thinnest air in Machu Picchu to the lonely islands of Polynesia. But somewhere along this path humanity made a mistake. We’ve expanded past our natural climate into an environment that hates us almost as much as we hate it. A God forsaken wasteland that batters anything that inhabits it with a silent ferocity, sneaking its icy tendrils anywhere it can squeeze them until it’s choked all the life and warmth out of the world. Wisconsin is too damn cold.

Before I came to Beloit, I didn’t know that hair could freeze. The first time it happened to me I was running late for an 8:15 class. I had just finished my morning shower and I realized in a panic that I didn’t have time to dry my hair. I threw my coat and backpack on before stepping into the snowy abyss beyond the safe walls of Maurer. By the time I got to the Science Center something felt wrong. Rather than its normally soft and flowing state, my hair was completely solid. The next ten minutes were remarkably uncomfortable as my frozen hair rested on the back of my neck, constantly reminding me of the miserable climate I’ve chosen as my college home. There are certain things that humans shouldn’t have to learn. One of those is what it feels like to thaw your hair.

Frozen hair is just one example of how this evil climate lowers our quality of life. Frozen sidewalks force us to use salt so we can walk. But salt is tracked everywhere into every building, making dorm vacuums work overtime trying to keep student rooms somewhat habitable. There are few worse feelings than waking up in the middle of the night freezing cold, only to realize that you left the window a little bit open, and while you slept the temperature had plunged into the negatives. Or the feeling of cold air assaulting the back of your throat because you’d dared to breathe outdoors. 

Sometimes this cursed weather can’t even decide how cold it wants to be. Sometimes it allows the snow to melt just enough to make walking anywhere a wet miserable experience. This slush isn’t fun, you can’t pack it. It falls apart in your hands like the Star Wars sequel trilogy, and like that trilogy, everyone who comes into contact with it moves on with their day feeling a little worse.

I don’t like the cold. And I don’t think it likes me either. It’s high time we went our separate ways

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