Because it's not Minnesota, which I loathe this time of year.
It's not because of my beloved Carls, who I missed very much and am thrilled to see again. Rather, it's because every fall the flora of this lovely state decides to declare war on me en masse, giving me the worst allergies you can possibly imagine. It happens again in the spring, which is why I like winter here. All the plants are dead, and I can breathe again.
But I definitely feel like if this was the 19th century, I'd be one of those guys on the Oregon Trail because the Docs told me that if I stayed in Minnesota, I'd die before 26.