I do this to myself every year, it seems. I expect it to get warm faster than it does.
I remember deciding to take a swimming class to fulfill one of my PhysEd requirements in college, and then thinking that if I took it in the spring semester, I'd spend less time running around wet and cold. Which was really stupid of me. All of September and half of October are plenty warm for swimming, with occasional warm spurts well into November. But though warm days start in March, you can't really count on it being warm here until May.
And it's only gotten worse over the years. Something in my body chemistry shifted while I was pregnant with Penny, and after she was born, I couldn't stand it being cooler than about 72, where before I was fine down to 65 or so. And now that I've shed a hundred pounds of insulating fat, I'm really most comfortable at around 75 or 76, unless I've just finished a workout.
We had a warm spurt a couple of weeks ago, and I settled into it, so now I've spent half of April whining about how cold it is.
It's got its bonuses, though. I discovered last summer that I was fairly comfortable in temperatures all the way up to 90 or so, where before I started sweating and muttering under my breath and looking for air conditioning as soon as we hit 80. Who knows? Maybe my ranking of the seasons will change.