So that's what leg warmers are for...

I spent most of last week looking forward to Friday.  Not because it signaled the beginning of the weekend (with less than two weeks until finals, there's no such thing as a weekend in law school) but because the weathermen had promised a beautiful sunshiney day with temperatures in the low 70s.  I love the winter, but the thought of not having to put up with clouds and freezing winds for at least one day this April was very tantalizing.

Friday morning I pulled out my capris, which had been banished to the top shelf of the closet since September, and put a t-shirt.  At the last minute, as I headed out the door, I threw on a hoodie too.  After all, it was only 7:30 in the morning and the sun had only been up for about ten minutes... it probably wasn't perfect weather yet.

5 minutes late, as usual, I ran out of the house and began walking briskly to school.  By the time I got to the parking lot, I could tell that something was amiss.  My toes, who had been so happy about the return of the flip-flops, were beginning to protest.  

"It can't be that cold," I mentally told them.  "Suck it up."  

They didn't stop tingling, though, and as I continued walking my legs and hands and ears joined in.  Puzzled that my extremities were so bothered by what I assumed was 50 degree weather, I started to look around at my surroundings.  Someone defrosting their car window.  Crunchy, ice covered grass.  My own breath, escaping from my mouth in puffs that reminded me of the pictures of nineteenth century trains in my property casebook.  

I passed three people on my way to school.  Every single one of them was wearing gloves.  All three of them had coats.  Two of them were wearing beanies.  Smart, sensible people who actually checked the weather before dashing outside in beach wear.

"So this is how natural selection thins the gene pool,"I thought dismally.

After what seemed like a very long 25 minutes, I finally made it into the warmth of the law school building.  As my feet began to thaw enough to resume their tingling protests, I looked around at my fellow classmates and was confronted by a sea of bare feet, legs, and arms.  The girl to my right was wearing a mini skirt and flats, the boy on my left had on flipflops and shorts.  This made me feel much better about my own judgment.  Of course, it also could have prompted me to worry about the future of a legal profession in the hands of people who weren't even capable of dressing themselves appropriately for the weather... but I'm pretending that it really wasn't a matter of inferior judgment, but a signal of superior foresight.  After all, it may have been a miserable 28 degree trek to school, but when my fellow classmates and I headed home that afternoon, it was a glorious 69 degrees -- warm enough that my toes began to forgive me.