It's -17 degrees. Right now, at 5:11 a.m., in St. Paul, Minnesota. Where I live.
Now right now, I don't know what you find more shocking: a) that it's -17, b) that I'm up at 5:11 a.m., or c) that I live in St. Paul. I suppose all three of them carry their own unique shudder values, don't they?
But I'm just here to tell you: baby, it's cold outside.
My reporter friend, Molly Millett, called me yesterday for a quote about the weather. I feel my line about Mt. Everest was particularly clever. Clever schmever. I speak the truth.
I have to take my car into the shop a bit later on this morning. I'm hoping to drive it, rather than push it. My battery is not liking the cold snap. This means, at roughly 8:30 this morning, I'll be walking home from my neighborhood mechanic. Outside. In nature. At which point in time, it might just warm up to -13 if I'm lucky.
I have no true winter garb, save for my Uggs. I realize Ugg boots aren't necessarily the Gear of Mountaineers, but I will tell you this: the ONLY part of me that will not be frozen in my four block dash to home will be my feet. I wish I could get a whole damned suit made of Uggs.
That's all I'm sayin'.