Thursday, January 31, 2019


It B Cold.

Frigid, actually.

You know my thing:  you can only can complain about the cold or the heat. I don't think you can do both.

I've opted long ago to bitch about the cold.  Though really I'm not bitching.

Yes, it's very very cold.  The walk from my work parking garage to my office was beyond painful.  Mostly, if not exclusively, to my face.  I can take it a step further - my eyes.

I'm speculating, of course, but it seemed the air went behind my glasses to my eyeballs. I've had surgeries that caused less pain.

Shep's "out" time has been relegated to the yard at 60 seconds per.  His days are not with the walker, but it's daycare. Indoor. Though he has opportunities to go outside there.

Right now, I'm just happy our pipes have not frozen or burst.

This is all short-lived, I believe. If the weather folks are correct, it will be 50-ish by Sunday. So we will have one more day of frozen hell, and then it will just be back to rain - which is ok, as we have so much ice build up everywhere, I need it to melt away.

Song by: Linda Ronstadt, Philip Glass & the Kronos Quartet

1 comment:

Raybeard said...

The N. American weather is (after the Brexit madness, naturally) the highest item on our news bulletins, and we don't envy you in the least, you'll not be surprised to know. What you're going through would finish me off, or take me damn close to it. Meanwhile we're 'basking' in night temps of -4 Celsius, which is pretty near as cold as I can stand. Here's hoping that some alleviation of your suffering - and especially of all the homeless souls (and animals) - comes about as forecast this weekend, if not before.