Well… I think Mother Nature is drunk. Or high. Or just plain confused.

I made the wondrous move to Florida for a reason, y’all. I hate the cold. I want 80 degrees and sunshine every single day. Flip-flops, iced coffee, and zero thoughts about coats or gloves. That was the deal.

But I am starting to think Kentucky’s weather jumped in our trunk and moved down here with us.

Now listen—I know, I know. Right now Kentucky is dealing with negative wind chills, snow, ice, and all the things I specifically ran from. I get it. But this morning—right here in the good ol’ Sunshine State—there was a thin layer of ICE on my truck door handle.

ICE.

I’m not exaggerating. Took Carson to school at 6 a.m., reached for the handle, and there it was. Frosty. Icy. Absolutely uncalled for.

And then—AND THEN—Saturday night they’re whispering about snow flurries.

Snow.
Flurries.
In Florida.

Come on now.

At this point I might as well go visit the family up north, because apparently there ain’t much difference in the weather. I’m gonna freeze either way.

So listen up, Kentucky—come get your weather.
We did not agree to this transfer.
Signed,
A very confused Floridian who just wanted sunshine ☀️