I used to love snow, and would happily run around in the winter without a coat, shocking onlookers who would invariably ask “aren’t you cold?”  But of course, that was before my weight loss.  Without the extra padding between me and the elements, I find myself hating said elements and desperately dashing with clenched teeth from one warm enclosure to another regardless of how Thinsulated my coat may be.  I always thought I was a hearty northerner, but it turns out I was just a fat wuss.

The final line of this strip was what I yelled out the window on Saturday morning when I woke up to 60-degree weather and could see my grass again for the first time in a long while.  I almost immediately felt guilty about this upon seeing the pathetic melting remnants of the fort I’d built with my son, but Mrs. Shoebox’s cackles assured me that I nonetheless had a punchline in need of a setup.  So the mix of guilt and humor combined with the fact that we actually DID go bike riding on Sunday led me to this idea.