It’s cold. It’s North Dakota cold. Colder than a bucket of penguin poop. The kind of windchill that builds character (as they would tell you back home in ND).
I may sound like an old fart but I don’t remember school getting canceled for severe cold and we had a lot of severe cold back then before George W. and global warming. Maybe it was the whole “wind chill builds character” outlook, or just Western machismo but the only way school was canceled when I was in school and college was your old fashioned Wrath of God blizzard. I’m not saying that closing school for severe cold isn’t a bad thing – if I was a kid I’d be dancing on air.
Anyway, it’s cold. Last night we moved into the office, the warmest room in our flat. Our master bedroom was cold, its got two walls facing into that Arctic blast. So we unfolded the futon and tried to crash there. What we did not know is that our futon mattress has gone from firm but yielding to something slightly south of concrete and just north of cinder blocks. We ended up crawling back into the ice box that is our bedroom, piling a heap of comforters on the bed and diving underneath like hibernating gophers. It was OK as long as no flesh was exposed to the outside air. And it did nothing at all to build character. Those North Dakotans lie.