Okay people. I know I’m wimpy, and I know that all of you who’ve just had 3 inches of snow (sorry, Chicago) already hate me quite a bit, but I’ve got to tell you I’m freezing to death. Remember how in the summers in Chicago I whinge constantly about the heat and the humidity and long for autumn? Granted, I’m not as bad as Phineas, what with his annual plea for air tickets to Iceland or a brick to the head, but I never thought I’d actually get to the point where 90 (that’s 32 for you Celcius folk) in the shade would be an acceptable temperature for me. Nonetheless, now that I’m here in Melbourne, after some 4 and a half months in tropical climes, 20 (that’s about 68 for you Fahrenheiters) degree weather makes me want a parka and mittens. Seriously. I don’t know what I’m going to do in New Zealand. I can just see myself now, huddled in my sleeping bag in a tent up on a mountain somewhere, wearing every single piece of clothing in my backpack.
On a slightly less inflammatory note, there is a news flash: much as I don’t like jinxing these things with premature announcements, I’m going to go ahead and tempt fate. There is a chance that in the next six months or so I’ll be moving to Sydney. For now, let’s just say I’ve met a very interesting person who’s got some very interesting projects to work on (many thanks to Eric for the introduction!). So who’s coming with me?