Nothing like waking up and having to chip ice out of your sink so you can make coffee.
Well, Okay, maybe it isn't that cold out. Still, when you're used to eighty- to ninety-degree Fahrenheit nighttime temperatures, with humidity percentages in the mid to upper eighties, you have to admit that our low last night (as reported by Winjama Weather) was 55℉.
Without the luxury of central heating, or even anything other than a kitchen stove to heat your house, not to mention little to no insulation in the structure, and damn few winter clothes or even a blanket to choose from, 55℉ is going to be cold.
According to meticulous records maintained on one blog entry (http://www.winjama.net/2010/12/its-all-my-fault.html), our low-temperature record for Corozal happened on 27 December 2010, when it got all the way down to 51.6℉.
That's cold enough, that when you walk the doggies, you've got your long pants on (assuming you still own some), socks (which feel really weird), a toque (knit cap) pulled low over your ears, and a pair of knitted gloves on, and you're still cold. You can see your breath as you're walking, there's steam rising from the waters of the bay, and you can feel your breath condensing onto your mustache and beard. Did I mention that it was cold?
Thanks to Don Squire for reminding me in a FaceBook post this morning, that our coconut oil has frozen too. It's now about the consistency of marshmallow stuff that comes in a jar.
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