Going home can be a stressful activity for everyone. I always end up picking fights with my mom together with my brothers, and the visit is strained from start to end. This past winter it was even more complicated than ever before, however, not entirely thanks to my family problems. You find, this past Christmas was the first year I had returned back to my hometown after moving several hundreds of miles south. I was not any longer accustomed to the chilly temperatures of winter up to the north, and the difference was horrifying from the moment I first felt the frigid temperatures to my very last breath I took of painfully cold air. I thought that I had packed really perfectly for the trip and would be ready to combat the chilly winter discourse, but I was very incorrect. Apparently, the memories of fighting through snowpiles and subzero environments had escaped me, because I was absolutely mesmerised by the frigid air when I arrived up north. I hid inside my parents home for every moment of my trip, huddled against an air vent and wrapped in a heavy sham. I rarely could stand the low air temperatures unless I had produced a space heater dutifully plugged in beneath my feet, and I walked around with an electric heater in tow. I was constantly running up to the thermostat to turn up the indoor air temperature, but even with the heat blasting I could barely feel a difference in the cold air. I was 100% ready to head back to the south right at the end of the trip.