And all the clouds that lour'd upon our House

In the spirit of what will eventually be James Cameron's Avatar trilogy (not that I ever intend to watch the first one, let alone the inevitable sequels), I figured I'd go ahead and cap out my bitching-about-the-cold posts with a third part. If this is Godfather-esque, this post will be pretty crappy, not unworth watching, passably entertaining, but mostly, like, not good. Hopefully, though, this will be more like the Karate Kid franchise, the third entry of which was probably the best (I'm not kidding; Karate Kid III (not to be confused with The Next Karate Kid is amazing and super entertaining)).

So in this post, it was actually warm enough outside that I was able to take off my winter hat and mittens while riding my bicycle, and though I was still wearing a long-sleeve shirt under two hooded sweatshirts, I unzipped both sweatshirts upon arriving at campus. Big improvement!

So I biked to the beach. To re-declare the Miami-ness of my situation. I didn't go in the water or anything, but did at least touch the water and looked at it for a little bit. I thought to shout, "Fuck you, cold!" but didn't, figuring that the gesture of going there at all was sufficient.

It's supposed to be back up into the upper 70s by the weekend anyway, so it's probably no big deal.