Forgive me for being preoccupied with the weather. But in Minnesota, if you aren’t, there’s a good chance you’ll die.
In fact, the other night the TV weatherman said it was going to get so cold that “every living thing outside was going to die.” That’s a direct quote; these folks are tough.
Then he gave today’s forecast: high around four, five or six. When it’s that cold, does it really matter? And lows in the neighborhood of minus 15. Whoa, bud. That’s my neighborhood.
The Minneapolis Star-Tribune carried an item this morning about the number people (12) needing fingers (plural) re-attached after losing a tussle with the snow-blower machine. I would not joke about something like this.
In closing, herewith is the actual conversation with the Mystery Woman this morning:
“What degree is it?” she asked from the top of the stairs.
“One,” I said.
“That’s not enough,” she pronounced. And went back to bed.