Living in California for six years makes you forget just how cold six degrees is. The only time I used the words “six degrees” in California was in the same sentence as “Kevin Bacon.” Six degrees is nose-falling-off cold. Six degrees is so cold that the cup of boiling coffee that was scalding my legs in the car is stone cold by the time I’m in class (a three minute walk). Six degrees freezes my boogers so much that they can’t plug my nose anymore, which means my ice cube nose runs like a mountain spring. This fountain of snot mingles with the moisture in my breath to make icicles in my moustache. Despite all this, six degrees wasn’t cold enough for me. I had to get a haircut so that I could be as cold as possible. Why did I like the winter as a kid?