Here we go again already. -18's a killer, but at least the wind is remorseless. Cat seems to find herself operating as a hot water bottle, alternating betwixt me and Moonpie.
If I were a Norwegian Bachelor Farmer, I'd be half in the bag in my whiskey cups. But I'm not Norwegian.
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Well, thank goodness you're not Norwegian. The national supply of Øs and ås is already dangerously low. And real ös and üs haven't been available to the general public since they printed the posters for Metalfest '88.
(Seriously though. And -18? Holy fuck.)
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