It's already 65°F here and supposed to be 67 for the high today. Tomorrow...more horrors: low 70s, and then 60s on Saturday. Since I wasn't brought up on the Australian-Christmas-shrimp-on-the-barbie-let's-go-to-the-beach philosophy, this is about as Christmasy as cold sushi served for Christmas dinner. In sheer self-defense I have my Christmas cassettes on and plugged in my USB Christmas tree for an additional fillip of cheer.
(I have to admit I'm glad that we don't have sleet and ice like the poor sods in Massachusetts—dangerous icy conditions are only fit for child molesters and Osama bin Laden—but this is ridiculous. I should have known this would happen when it got so chilly earlier in the season. Warmish is one thing, but humid and sticky is annoying. What's really aggravating is that three hours up the road it's 37°F! I wish Florida would keep its damn warm air where it belongs.)
I am delighted to listen to the cassettes again. I have a great deal of Christmas music still left on cassette. A few I have replaced with CDs, mostly if the tape broke or became crumpled near the leaders, and a few I could replace with CDs, but why fritter the money away? What I have left play fine [cross fingers, as the tape player did eat one of my tapes last year—luckily I could get another copy if I wanted) and I have several rare ones that I bought when Oxford Books went out of business, ones of British vintage.
The temperature has certainly confused the birds! There was a loud, melodic warble outside for the longest time; it came so close that I had to get up and peek out on the deck to see if I could catch sight of the bird. It was the little Carolina wren, his song almost larger than his little plump body with the upturned tail! He sounds as if it is mating season instead of December.
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