A Short Post on Really Cold Weather

I’m sitting in my office trying to warm up sufficiently to work on the computer. Yes, it’s Sunday, but I have a lot of projects going on, and this is the only day I have to do my pet project, which is working on year books.

It’s a whole 9 degrees outside. It’s not much warmer inside. Mr. Demonic is, hmm… let’s call him “thrifty”, so we are encouraged to turn the heat off when we leave the building. The building is made of cement block. It takes about an hour to remove the chill sufficiently enough to feel a small level of comfort. In addition, I have a small space heater under my desk. This is because my feet are usually cold. The space heater is cranking, but my feet are still cold.

I’ve been sitting here attempting to type on a keyboard with ice cold letters. My mouse is like a frozen block of ice. A short visit to the restroom reveals that the toilet seat is uncomfortably cold. My theory is plain. Nine whole degrees is extremely difficult to chase off, even with the furnace blasting.

The only TV I watch is a short visit to the Weather Channel to find out the current temperature. Once informed, I donned flannel lined khakis, wool socks, and sweatshirt over regular shirt. Then I went outside and fired up my small car, which would take about thirty minutes of  highway driving to warm up. My office is five minutes away, so it definitely didn’t warm up.

I used to live in a contiguous United state where it’s so cold, it usually leads the nation for coldest temperature. The people there are entirely crazy. My friends and relatives there relished cold weather. They would pop out of their frozen houses and beat their chests with both fists. “Ha, ha! I laugh at cold weather! Let’s go ice fishing! Let’s go snowmobiling! Let’s go up north!” “Up north” meaning the place two hundred miles towards Canada where it is really really cold.

I was enticed to move where I live now because during the time I was dating Mr. Demonic, this state had a rash of warm winters, where all it did was rain. After we tied the knot, we’ve had a rash of winters where all it does is mimic the state from which I escaped.

It took me about forty years, but I finally decided that I am not comfortable with cold or snow. Yes, I’m not too bright. Now I live in exile, hoping for a day when I can go to my true home, the one where a beach that isn’t encased in ice is included.

My fingers are frostbitten now, so I must end this post. Perhaps tomorrow will be a warmer day.