Hey kids, try out a little cognitive dissonance! Click here and sing along while you think about being cold:

So, last week I left you in a freezing minivan in the middle of Massachusetts during a snowstorm, wondering why oh why would anyone leave 70 degree weather in lovely downtown Phoenix to test the seat warmers of a Buick on the way to Logan International.

Today, when the temperature in Berlin, Massachusetts is coming off a balmy -7 degrees, and I am safe and snug in Phoenix trying to decide whether I need to wear a sweater or not, it’s fun to get all nostalgic about how worried I was about the weather when I was planning my trip.

The last time I was in New England during a non-summer month I had frozen my fanny off (figuratively, but sadly, not literally) and so this time I was determined not to be caught with my pants down, as that would only make it colder, and thus invested in gear that would make an Inuit blue with envy: fleece jackets, lined coats, isotoner gloves, infinity scarves, hiking boots, and even a hat (no mean feat, that: I haven’t been able to find a hat to fit my oversized noggin since I was in third grade).

As it turned out, I was well prepared. The closest I came to feeling the cold was during an ill-advised walk from Boston Common to Faneuil Hall, and even then I didn’t know how really close I cut it until I entered the warmth of Quincy Marketplace and started to painfully defrost.

Leery of the prospect of frigid mornings, I was even more determined to take my fluffiest bathrobe, in itself no small feat when you consider that it took up more than half of my airline-approved checked baggage. Dad, Interrupted wandered in as I was sitting on the lid trying to work it in with five days of cold-weather clothing and observed that maybe I’d have to leave it home.

Let’s put it this way: you’ll pry my fluffy white bathrobe from my cold (with an emphasis on freezing) dead fingers.

Next up: Historical Nerd Hits the Freedom Trail.

© E.S. Evans 2011