It is 7 a.m. The temperature is 18 degrees. At this time yesterday, it was 23 but felt like 13.
The low this past Wednesday was 16. When I said I wish I could be a teen again, I wasn’t talking about the weather.
My wife has been in bed this Sunday morning with the comforter pulled up to her chin. I don’t think she’s coming out anytime soon. I am drinking my coffee and amusing myself with a few “It’s so cold that ….” jokes.
It’s so cold the politicians have their hands in their own pockets.
It’s so cold that the police told the bank robber to “freeze,’’ but it was too late.
We do plenty of things well in the South, but being a popsicle is not one of them. We have plenty of belly fat rolling down the aisles at Walmart, but not enough padding to get us through a deep freeze. We’re wimps when it comes to winter.