I am packing up summer clothing for winter storage in the family's palatial mountain retreat, located at the end of a dirt road next to a colony of atavistic dirt Buddhists somewhere in the Catskill Mountains.
The Buddhists keep an eye on things, and perform weird and unspeakable rites to ensure trespassers stay away. The occasional poacher gets through; there is a feast, and much rejoicing. (You figure it out.)
On one of the clothing boards there is currently a discussion of the favorite blazer, and it occurred to me as I shoved my oar in that the main reason I like my thrift shop Brooks Brothers model is that it has a 3/8 lining, or almost none at all, and is made of hopsack, a coarse weave that breathes well.
I can wear this jacket anywhere, any time, and not overheat. And the same cannot be said of many of my favorite jackets, especially the cold-weather stuff.
And this is because Americans think they have a constitutional right to be gently poached in the workplace.
I'm sorry, but 74 degrees inside is too damn warm. 70 is okay, 68 even better. Mr. Obama took a lot of heat for mouthing off on this topic a while back, but it was the only area where I agree with the radical socialist pinko Commie jug-eared freak.
I wonder if skyrocketing fuel prices will get Americans to turn the heat down.
And, inadvertently, contribute to the renaissance - men keeping their jackets on during the day.