I once worked in a flower store, our products were stored in the refrigerator. In the summer, on the street +35, in the refrigerator +4, customers to us like looking at the crowds broke. So the terrible spectacle was a fly flying into the refrigerator - they are cold-blooded, all their systems are slowed to the ambient temperature. Such a fly evaluates the situation, decides to take off, chooses the box more genuine, runs, runs, runs, and can not take off - and falls down a desperate housewife. In autumn, I feel the same.