It's cold. I mean really cold. Oh well, good excuse to hang out indoors and watch some Netflix. It's kinda nice to have to stay indoors and cocoon. Bring on the cold weather!! We love winter!!!!♥!!
Late February 2015:
It's a wonder we're all still sane. Or alive really. No one goes outside anymore unless they need to -- except the dog, and he has to pee fast or the stream will freeze up and stick him to the deck. We have to dress like this to go to work and school:
Even indoors we dress in more layers than a Winchester. We lurch around the house like Joey wearing all of Chandler's clothing.
We are all pale and tired-eyed from too much TV. We have watched seven seasons of Friends, four seasons of The Walking Dead, and have nearly exhausted our Netflix show options. God help us, this is up next:
We are not only pale, we are dry and scaly and chapped. I am even tempted to take this guy up on his offer.
I gave up wearing makeup a couple of weeks ago. Walking into the frigid and never-ending polar winds getting from my car to my office turned my eyes into small crow's-footed Niagara Falls, and I'm damned if I'm going to let my tears wash off $5 worth of Yves Rocher every day.
Ottawa Catch-22: It's so cold the ice conditions on the Canal are perfect. It's so cold that anyone actually skating on the canal is quickly captured and placed on a 48-hour psych hold.
The days blur into each other. We get quite inordinately excited when the daily high goes up to -9, but our hopes are cruelly dashed when the windchill makes it feel like -22 anyway. We begin to wonder if this winter will ever end.
"Friends" post pictures of their tropical escape vacations online, or pictures of where they live their carefree snowless lives.
We hates them. We hates them forever.
We descend into a scary hell of bad 1980s sit-coms and barely repressed profanity. In fact, our feelings for winter can best be expressed like this.
We no longer love winter. We wait patiently for Spring. Or death. Or the next season of House of Cards.