Give the weatherman his due -- they said it would be cold on Monday, and it was frigid. I'm glad at least the mail carriers and schools were closed for the holiday. Pretty sure I heard the kids saying "Free at last! Free at last!"
It all started Saturday night with freezing rain and light snow, and eventually it was like Mr. Freeze had attacked the town and was holding us hostage. (I prefer to imagine the urbane and tragic George Sanders version, but choose your favorite.)
The temperature never got out of the single digits from Sunday night through now (Tuesday morning), and all day Monday we had windchill as low as -21. The snow that had fallen was not deep, but froze over into a candy shell of treachery. I'd crouch from the blasts of wind before they could send me sliding down the hill, AFV style. My four-legged friends -- the only reason I even went outdoors on Monday -- didn't fare much better. Legs all over the place, paws unable to gain purchase. And these are suburban dogs, not used to peeing on solid surfaces; the little guy, Nipper, was baffled. He had a terrible time figuring out where to go.
I never fell, and we never lost power, thank heaven. I've mentioned before that our furnace can't run without electricity, and winters where random tree limbs took us off the grid would get cold fast.
How cold was it? <carson> It was SO cold, that Gladys Knight froze her Pips. </carson>
Below is a bad picture of ice on the window. Or more specifically, on the window crank mechanism on the inside of the house, above the kitchen sink.
Today it's supposed to go to 26, which will feel like a day at the beach by comparison, and it's said to be a rainy 50 on Wednesday. I think I can live with that.
(Note that all temperatures used in this blog are in that human scale of Fahrenheit, not those other anti-human scales people outside Murca like to use. Just FYI.)