Nothing burns like the cold. ~George R.R. Martin~
This was the scene yesterday morning, as I drove home from church.
Frigid cold, frigid wind. It may be hard to tell from this photo, but trust me…it was cold. The “real feel” temps were below zero.
Mr. Martin is correct, the cold can burn. And sting. And send a chill down the spine. I made one stop on my way home, for water and a few groceries. Once home, I did not venture out again. The plans of attending a Sunday afternoon hot yoga class went astray. My only intention was to put three layers of clothes on and hide under an afghan while watching Star Trek Voyager on Netflix. (There’s something oddly enticing about Captain Janeway’s bun and Chacotay’s facial tattoo.)
I really should not complain about the cold given the weather in other parts of the country. Cold is far better than the three feet of snow meandering through Boston, left there this past week and including today’s expected 12-16″ of the white stuff.
Yeah, no thanks. I’ll take the cold over shoveling the car out from under a mountain of snow.
As long as the cold isn’t a polar vortex, I’m good. In fact, the high of 16 degrees and the sun made it feel almost balmy today. I’m thinking by Thursday, I will be wearing shorts and a tank top.