Whiny Freezing Snittage.

OK. Guess what the temperature is here in Amishville.

8 degrees, boys and girls. And while this may not be too cold for people living in Canada, or perhaps Antarctica, it's pretty fucking cold for this girl.

Oh, and the wind chill? Negative Eleven.

Go ahead, roll that off your tongue. What it means is you're going to go out to your car, and you're going to have to use a crowbar to get your driver's side door open, because it rained Sunday, and that has frozen solid. It also means you're going to have to let your car warm up for a looooooong time. And scrape ice pellets off your windshield. While your cheeks freeze, because the adorable pink, velvet-trimmed scarf you found is not big enough to wrap around your entire head. And your big pink polar fleece mittens will render you incapable of changing radio stations, lanes, or doing anything other than steer like a 90 year old. (But they do keep your hands warm, so you won't be snapping off digits like book matches once you get to work.

Oh, and when you get to work (attired in wool socks, sweater clogs, long underwear, jeans, a long sleeved t-shirt and sweater) you will immediately reach for your backup pullover, and contemplate burning bulk mail to keep warm, since your heater seems to be on the fritz, and it is approximately 30 degrees in the office.

Now, if I have any readers in places like Boston, Buffalo and Minnesota, I know- you have it much worse than I do. You have one week of spring, in the middle of August, and the rest of the year is approximiately 86 degrees below zero. Bite me. I just had two winters where "cold" was 40 degrees (which is really chilly if you don't have heat). I'm not used to this crap.

BRR!

Off to slaughter a chicken and hope the heater works.


Edited to add: Also, your office will be so cold that your computer will stop working, and your boss will call you to ask if you will deliver a cute, shiny, metallic Christmas tree (which will undoubtedly not pass through security) to the Lieutenant Governor's office, causing you to have to go back OUT into the cold, and change out of your cocoon like outfit, into something quasi-presentable (which means a skirt, because you own no nice pants)and you will freeze to death on the drive up.

HATE.