It's supposed to reach the sixties today, so spring fever is running pretty high at the Key Compound. Birds are singing in the morning. More lawn is exposed as the glaciers retreat. Yes, there's a chance of snow next week, but it's not a serious amount. Besides, I can't think that far ahead. If I could, my life would be a lot more organized.
Now that it looks like Old Man Winter is finally lurching out of here, I can pass along one of the secrets for how I survived.
The thing that bothers me most about the winter is probably that my hands get so desperately cold. Well, this year I Took Steps. And enlisted technology. Behold, the battery powered heated gloves.
Each glove has a little power pack that zips into a pocket. You can run the heat on three different levels, but I can't tell the difference between them. They are waterproof and supposedly windproof, but since I don't ride a motorbike (for whom these things are intended) I can't really tell.
The Inclemency Gauntlet |
Yes, they're from China, and yes, I bought them from our oligarchical friends at Amazon. It's almost impossible to not buy from China. Even if the label doesn't admit it, parts of everything are made there, or they just ship things to Vietnam or other places and pretend they originated there. Anyway, I couldn't find a pair of heated gloves made anywhere else.
Do they work? Yes, but not quite as much as I might have hoped. When it's really cold they don't seem to do much, but they definitely keep the edge off. The batteries last about an hour or so before recharging, which isn't bad. And I could still make snowballs while wearing them to throw at the dog. So, a success.
For those chilly spring mornings, I'm planning to invent a heated umbrella -- it pours waves of warmth onto your head as you walk. Money in the bank, if I can think of a way to keep heat from rising.
4 comments:
I've got some heated underwear, they were recommended by Honere de Balzac.
You are one step to being a cyborg Fred.
70s yesterday and today. No coat so I have to remember the poo bags.
rbj
Balzac! Monsieur Pantalon Chaud himself!
Bear: Well, maybe Skynet will find a job for me.
Robert: I know -- the struggle is real.
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