Monday, 24 January 2011

I hear it's cold out

I think it might be cold out. 

Yep, uh huh, it's definitely cold out. 

I didn't go outside yesterday.  I spent a perfect January Sunday, sleeping in, watching tv, reading in the living room sun, and then watching more tv. 

But it seemed cold out.  I had a few clues. 

For example, when Hubby emerged from the downstairs bathroom with the belief that the the faucet was broken, I didn't fret.  The faucet is probably fine, rather the pipes frozen. 

As for today, the next clue came from the weatherman this morning.  He mentioned that the current temp was somewhere around minus 40. I say somewhere because it was minus 29, I think, but minus 37 or something equally effing ridiculous with the godforsaken windchill.  Hmm.  Chilly.

Unfortunately, the requirement to work for a living meant that I had to leave the house, which is how I got my next clue.  I knew I'd have to start the car early, but I didn't know that when I tried to turn the damn key my little Civic would wheeze and writhe in pain. 

And I didn't know that although I had to move Hubby's truck out of the way, his doors would be frozen shut... and that Hubby would watch me struggle with them from the comfort of the bedroom. 

So, as punishment, I made him drive me to work, which meant I could kinda avoid the cold a little bit longer. 

But when we drove the whole way with the heat on full blast, but never really got warm, I started to think "hey, it must be cold". 

And when I got to work, and the river outside my window was literally steaming - as if it was a boiling pit of lava water evaporating into the air - I got my next hint that it might be cold out. 

My final inclination came when I was unable to take off my coat and knee socks - when the thought of removing the feather down parka and striped wicked-witch-of-the-east stockings was as traumatic as the thought of taking a dip in the steaming river. 

I eventually gave in to the a-winter-coat-in-the-office-looks-weird rule, but my wicked witch stockings looked effing SWEET with my black suede pumps. 


1 comment:

  1. Hubby would like to add that he voluntarily got dressed and came downstairs to help me with the truck doors. (And by "help" I mean stand in the front window and watch from the comfort of the front hall just in case I was unable to force the passenger door open with all my might and proceed to crawl across the seats to back the monster truck out of the driveway, with the passenger door waving open at the side.)