It's one of three things...

Either I've lived in Minnesota too long; or
I've gained a fat layer to be rivaled by polar bears; or
I'm just plain out of my mind.

Yesterday before I left for work, I found out the temperature was going to hit a high of 47 degrees. What? Here? In February? Seriously? What the?

So naturally, I left the house without a jacket or coat of any kind. It was 36 degrees when I left the house. I stepped outside and thought, "Damn! This is fucking beautiful!!"

By the time I left work at 4:45, it was 47 degrees. It made me wonder just how deeply packed away my shorts and other summer clothes really are.

I'm expecting either the men in white jackets or the leading area surgeon for gastric bypass to call any minute now.