I'm so cold, I'm so cold, I'm so cold ...

Did I tell you that Mexico is experiencing a cold front? Maybe I did, but you need to hear what that means.

It means that the wind here is bypassing my jeans, my leggings, my blouse, my overcoat, my sweater - and going straight through my skin. When I say chilled to the bones, I mean CHILLED to the BONES! I'm. So. Cold!

It's so cold here, if I want iced water, I can just put a glass out on the windowsill and leave it for five minutes.

It's so cold, when I sit anywhere for too long without moving, my feet cramp up.

It's so cold, when I talk, mist forms. And when we were younger, my siblings and I used to think this was the coolest, most fascinating thing. When we went to country (Carron Hall, St Mary, or Mandeville, Manchester), we would wake up early and go outside just to talk and make mist with our mouths. Now? I don't want to make no mist with my mouth! I just want warmth.

And this is what I've discovered: the cold has settled into everything: my lotion, my hair oil, my perfume, my toothpaste ... everything is cold! So the torture just goes on. I poured mouthwash into my mouth to gargle and it was so cold, I had to just spit it back out.

I was trying to apply lotion to my arm and had to stop and prepare mentally for the impact of very cold cream on skin. When applying my body mist, I call on Jesus. Because one squirt to the neck and I'm just freezing.

It's really cold.

My friend from Canada sent me some pictures this week and had a good laugh at my expense.
You think you're cold? she asked. I had to take pause and acknowledge that yes, Canada is generally colder than Mexico. But still. My tropical, warm-blooded body is screaming bloody murder in this cold.

I was standing at the bus stop and put my hand on the metal railing. Big mistake. It felt like touching the blade of a very sharp knife. I had to look to verify that I had not cut myself. My housemate wears socks on her hands to keep them warm. I might do the same.

I was trying to explain to my friends here: in Jamaica, we bask in the glory of the sun. I will never complain about the heat again. I will never behave like unending sun is a curse again. I will never again talk badly about the beautiful warmth that that golden orb bestows majestically on our people. I will be grateful. And blow kisses at the sun. And spread the gospel of the goodness of sunshine ... .

In the meantime, thoughts of home and warmth - and even heat - plague my mind. What am I doing here??!! I'm so cold, I'm so cold, I'm so cold ...