I just finished a long four-day weekend, which was delightful except for the fact that a key word to describe it would be “cold”. For one thing, a serious cold front came and clamped itself on us for the entire weekend. On several mornings the temperature registered 10˚ and didn’t rise much above that during the day. I ventured out only occasionally, and not without bundles of clothes wrapped snuggly around me. Coincidentally, I came down with a chest cold at about the same time the cold front arrived. It was as if the idea of “cold” decided to grip both the outdoors and me at the same time. For the entire four days, the town of Westerly had a serious case of cold, and so did I. However, thanks in part to a soft woolen overcoat I had purchased on Thursday, I moved through the frigid four days rather nicely. Whenever I went out to run an errand, I wrapped myself in the heavy coziness of the coat, tucked a scarf around my neck, settled my wool cap on my head, and drove around in absolute comfort. I was almost grateful that I had a chest cold, because it enabled to me to prove just how warm and snug my new overcoat was. I even wore it indoors now and then as I sat and read in my comfortable apartment.