I am cold. I cannot get warm. I am wearing long johns, fleece pants, a turtleneck and a fleece sweatshirt. Wool socks and down slippers. I have even broken my cardinal rule of energy (and money) conservation and turned the heat up to 67. Unheard of in this house. But do I feel any warmer? No, no I do not. Even the cats have spent the day following the sun from one spot to another, and have now buried themselves in the middle of our bed, snuggled under pillows.

The arctic chill without any snow to make it all pretty? Not fun. Not fun at all. I am off to join the cats in their search for warmth under the covers in the bedroom. Come find me if I haven’t emerged by spring.


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