Famously What?!? Facing the Chill in South Carolina

By Jillian Owens
February 21, 2014

At this moment, I’m not happy. I’m peeved. I’ve been lied to. I feel hurt.

Why have you done this to me, South Carolina? Why? What have I ever done to you, except try to love you and defend you when others said you were ignorant, backwards, and not good enough for me? I always came back with the same defense, that your beauty and warmth compensated for your flaws. That this made them all worth bearing. Relationships are about compromise, and thought we had reached one.

My backyard: a deserted wasteland!

Perhaps the naysayers were right, South Carolina. When we first met, it was a scorching July day. I remember it well. Others hated your sweltering heat, but I loved it. People made promises. I was warned the summers would be oppressively hot, but this would be compensated for by the gloriously mild winters where a light jacket would be enough to keep me warm.

Here’s the deal. I hate being cold. I know, everyone does right? But I take this to an extreme level. I hate being cold more than anything else in the world. More than pain. More than spiders. More than marshmallows. From the moment the days get shorter and the nights get longer, until that first 70-something degree day in Spring, my soul is grinding its teeth in agony.

I’ve actually discovered that I have SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder). My mood is noticeably more dour in the darker colder months than in the glorious months of warmth and sun. I’m less social. I feel tired. My cheese consumption/weight go up and my serotonin levels/will to exercise go down. I won’t go outside unless I absolutely have to, and my friends have to endure my constant griping about how cold I am. It’s okay. I tolerate them in the Summer months, so we’re all square.

And here I sit…trapped in my house in the middle of an ice storm. My mind keeps flashing back to the last ice storm. The year was 2004. I was a completely broke college student living in a completely terrible & drafty apartment whose heat had just completely gone out. I sat there…shivering with only a couple of thin blankets to keep me warm. By nightfall, I had dumped the contents of my closet out onto my bed and burrowed like a badger underneath this pathetic mound.

When I emerged days later, I thrust my fist toward the sky, and much like Scarlett O’Hara, I made a vow. I will never be cold again!!!!! I said to no one in particular. Somehow I would eventually be not broke. And when that day came, I would never monitor my thermostat. I would jack that thing up to the highest bearable temperature! 

I would surround myself with the finest electric blankets and socks made from the wool of the finest and most exotic sheep! There would even be towel warmers! Winter would never touch me again.
Yet, even in my cozy warm abode with a stir-crazy dachshund, Winter has found a way to keep me stuck inside for days. If the power goes out I’m fully prepared to burrow under my clothes once again while crying like a small child.

South Carolina, You have betrayed me. You have betrayed us all. Can you compensate by bringing us the most gorgeous spring we’ve ever seen? Otherwise, I fear we can’t be friends. So sorry.