Currently in my neighborhood in LA it is 40 degrees. And it is 31 in Chicago. And that wee difference makes me want to stomp my feet like a petulant child before diving under about fifteen layers of blankets to try and sleep, using the cat as a footwarmer.

Though they might have a more reasonable policy on insulation than my building’s “Eh, let the chill leak in. How cold does it get in LA?” philosophy, I am going to be in very deep trouble if I ever have to take a job in a place with a normal climate.

I got a basic “Check out our program!” email this evening from the University of Nebraska at Lincoln. It might have been intriguing had I not thought to take a look at the weather forecast for Lincoln for the next few days:

I realize I’ve been spoiled by living in Southern California for six years, but I think even when I lived in Chicago I would have looked at that forecast and thought, “Perhaps they should have waited until spring to send out recruiting emails.”

1. It is not nearly as cold as I feared it would be. However, at about 27 degrees, it is still painfully cold for a SoCal wimp like me.

2. Good lord, Wheaten Terriers have a lot of energy. My mom had thought my aunt’s new dog was a Bichon Frisé, but it only looked like that when she was a puppy. Now she looks like a Honey I Blew Up The Bichon Frise, and was dragging me all over the black ice in the parking lot when I helped my aunt take her for a walk.

Still: Not taking me for a walk anywhere near as much as the late, lamented Rosie the Rottweiler.

3. Guest passes to health clubs are ridiculously expensive. My uncle was nice enough to get me one to the L.A. Fitness he goes to, and just for a week, it’s more than I pay for a month at 24 Hour Fitness. I felt bad, but I’m way too broke to make a magnanimous offer to pay for it, and will accept it as my xmas gift from him.

4. My god, Grandfather clocks are annoying if you’re not used to them. My aunt and uncle have one that BONGGGGs every 15 minutes, and I don’t know how the hell I’m going to be able to get to sleep tonight.

“Glove not included” is one of the more amusing disclaimers I’ve seen in a while.

- When it’s this cold in LA (37 degrees when I left the house yesterday), does that mean hell’s officially frozen over?

- Working on a TV show where every single MRI we show goes bad (to the point where TWoP has nicknamed it “The MRI of DOOOOOOOOOOOM”) makes you more than a little reluctant to schedule medical appointments, even necessary ones, that might result in having to get an MRI.

I mean sure, there was the time junior year when I rode my bike to class in the howling wind and the -20 air temperature, and I said, “Man, it’s pretty fucking cold out.” But I was tough.

I have lived in Southern California for over three years now. I have gotten used to never having it be colder than 50, even in the depths of winter.

Because of this, I am now the biggest, most irritating whining pussy in the WORLD when it comes to cold.

This was confirmed tonight upon my arrival with my dad in Sun Valley, Idaho. The predicted low: -8.

It was about 10 degrees out when we came back from dinner, and the whining from when we left the restaurant ’til we got back in the house was pretty much ceaseless.

It’s not supposed to get out of the 20′s once this week. I’m so fucked.

Then, there was the giant Friday the 13th snowstorm in Buffalo.

And now, it’s pouring rain in L.A. Rainy season here normally doesn’t start until late January.

This is going to be a very long winter.