The American way of life
Well, it’s cold. No two ways about it. It was -22 when I woke up this morning and it crawled up to -13 by 4pm. Right now it’s -16 and according to Dark Sky it feels like -34. I don’t know what this means since I haven’t set foot outside since Monday morning. Is the world still out there? How would I know? The TV still works. I still get the news, and oxygen.
The whole week has had a holding quality to it: that feeling when you’re a kid waiting for a snow day to be called. That breath you don’t quite let out. I work at home anyway and most of the people I work with work at home a couple of times a week so this has been a regular week, but still. It’s weirdly quiet. I feel packed in. There isn’t much traffic and nobody’s out walking and even the geese are in hiding. I haven’t heard a single dog bark. I’ve kept the heat at 68 to give the furnace a break, which is plenty warm, but it’s a big apartment with drafty windows and my feet are cold with two pairs of socks on. Not a complaint (I’m done complaining!), only an observation. I have it good, I know this. And we’ll all run wild this weekend, no doubt, when it bounces back up to…44 degrees?
A typical family exchange: