Dressing for weather becomes an obsessive science

It's getting to the cold part of the year in coastal South Carolina, with the occasional blasts of rain, so it's time for me to prepare.

Like figuring out how to dress. Or remembering how I did it last winter.

I know you folks Up North are laughing at this. As I write this it's 39 degrees outside, the high is expected to hit 53, and the temp is supposed to bottom out at 31 tonight. Shoot, that's what all of y'all would call a heat wave Up There. See, there's a reason why I'm Down South.

Yesterday I had to run some errands, a series of short lobs, easy bicycle runs. Except for the cold and the rain, it wasn't bad, but some preparation was needed.

I don't do cold weather very well, because I was raised in desert climates and because I don't have a lot of body mass. I don't have that padding you can only get from a lot of supersized fries and Big Macs (some hate my guts for that), so this preparation is crucial.

Before setting out yesterday, I had to really plan out the layers I was to wear. Admittedly there's a little obsessiveness-compulsiveness at work here; things have to be just so.

I have heavy-duty rain pants that I wear on the road for those rainy days. Even when it's not raining, the bike will kick up all the water that's already there, drenching me and splattering me with mud. These rain pants are thick, high-visibility orange, designed to be abused. The question is when to put them on.

If I put the rain pants on last, they're the quickest thing to remove. But I might as well forget about unzipping my jacket, or going into my pants pockets.

Then there's the issue of keeping my upper body warm and dry. I opted for a pullover sweatshirt, with a hooded jacket on top of that. Over all of this I had a cheap vinyl rain jacket. All good so far, but then I wanted to wear my long scarf. What was problematic was deciding where among the layers to put it.

Off with the rain jacket. Off with the hooded jacket. Put scarf on. Put jacket back on. Put rain jacket back on. And if I'd put the rain pants on last, that's another thing to deal with just to put the scarf on.

Then there are the usual carry-around items that I need quick access to. Wallet. Note pad. Pen. Cell phone. When I need these items, I need them right now, and I don't need to be feeling among all the layers to find them. Plus, when it's buried in all these clothes you can't hear the phone ring. Those went in my raincoat pocket, dry and accessible.

Finally, I'm good to go. Put the hood up on my jacket and raincoat. Put on my backpack, and hit the road.

One of my stops was at the bank. It's a local credit union where everyone knows everyone and the tellers greet you by name. My kind of place. I was telling the tellers about the preparation involved in bundling up, and one of them dropped the conversational bomb:

"How do you go to the bathroom?"

I hadn't even thought of that. Now, a day later, I'm still obsessing for an answer.

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