I was awake, but barely, covers pulled up snugly around my head. Something was different. Not wrong, just different. For a few puzzling moments, I couldn’t quite grasp what it was.

Then, with a glowing burst of appreciation, I got it. My feet were warm, toasty warm. It had been days since I could say that.

Don’t tell me Florida is the Sunshine State. I froze my away across the frigid Florida landscape last week, from Orlando to Fort Lauderdale, Miami to Key West, Naples to Plant City. Everywhere I went was as cold or colder than the place before.

The only souvenirs I brought back were a warm scarf, a sore throat and cold feet. My tootsies got cold on the way to the Orange Bowl and didn’t warm up until they got back in my own bed in chilly LaGrange.

That’s why I say the two most beautiful words in the English language are “down comforter.”

Folks down in Florida aren’t up on down, but like the rest of the country, they know a lot more about cold today than they did on Jan. 1. I think it’s safe to say they don’t like it.

Since I couldn’t have fun soaking up sun in seaside cafes or strolling barefoot on the beach, I found my merriment watching Floridians - and disappointed tourists - cope with the cold. It’s one thing to be cold at home when you are from Maine or Missouri or Montana. It’s something else to be bundled up and shivering in a tropical paradise while paying handsomely for the privilege.

“I bought a new bathing suit for this!” wailed a woman from Pennsylvania, who’d left 12 inches of snow behind for her trip to Key West.

We were both of an age where buying a swimsuit is a task to be endured, not enjoyed. Putting yourself through the torture of trying on bathing suits - only to find it too cold to wear one - well, that’s cruel and unusual punishment if I ever saw it.

I stood in a restroom line behind a smallish woman wearing a fleece coat, hat, gloves - and flip flops. Glancing down at my boots - with heavy socks inside - I couldn’t help asking, “Aren’t your feet freezing?”

“Yes,” she confessed ruefully, “but I’m from Alaska and I came to Florida to wear sandals.”

That sort of attitude prompted folks to do some crazy things - like para-sail in a parka. Or sit poolside in lounge chairs, buried under blankets.

The Key West waitress who served me a grouper sandwich was wearing a wool hat.

“How many days a year do you wear a wool hat at work?” I asked.

“Most years, maybe one,” she said with a grim smile. “I’m wearing it at home, too. My house isn’t heated.”

Oh, dear.

That might explain the general grumpiness of many “natives” we encountered. “I moved here to get away from this” was the typical comment, hissed through gritted teeth.

Did I mention that the cold winds blew? In normal Florida weather, if memory serves me, they are called ocean breezes and are a welcome, much-coveted phenomenon. Not this time. As frigid winds kept flags flapping - and spectators shivering - at the Orange Bowl, one fellow stood up behind me and yelled, “Somebody turn off the fan!”

Nobody ever did.

So we limped home, finding the temperatures no better - and a crust of ice over our back yard pool. My poor little pansies are shriveled and limp, and I fear the 5-year-old banana trees have breathed their last. My feet are feeling a bit icy right now, as I write in my warm bathrobe in my comfy chair, the laptop’s heat welcome on my knees.

But I’m not worried. The sun will come up tomorrow and the next day and the next. One of these days, maybe even today, that sun will actually warm us up again.

Meanwhile, remember just two words, the most beautiful in the English language. Down comforter.