Cone of cold

January 16, 2009

When a similar cold spell hit before the holidays, CBC Radio’s weather folks kept referring to it as a “cone of cold.” Another such cone descended a few days ago, and apparently intends to stick around for another few.  And it’s really cold this time.  When trodden upon, the hard-packed snow sounds like styrofoam.  My left eye (the more watery of the two in the cold) has frozen shut twice, a mildly panic-inducing sensation. I actually put a coat on the dog when we go outside*.  Everyone walks with their head down, the parks are deserted all day, cars make dispirited death-rattles in the morning.  Most of my windows are frosted over, which is actually quite pretty if you don’t think too much about what’s causing it.

I watched an episode of the ridiculous Man vs. Wild last weekend in which our hero descended upon Siberia.  As he leapt from the plane, he warned the audience that temperatures were so cold that you could die within minutes: -20C.  Perhaps he should parachute onto the Main or Crescent Street this weekend and get some tips from the clubbers who want to wear their favourite cute shoes and not pay for coat check.  He could show them his secret of using a dead deer’s leg as a walking stick, and they could… well, buy him a drink at least.

And to clarify: this is not what I like about winter.

*I hate pets in clothes, but she has such short hair, nearly died from pneumonia before I adopted her, and is clearly struggling to breathe comfortably when it’s -36C in the morning.  I can’t get her to wear boots though, which it unfortunate as salty sidewalks dry out her feet to the point where they sometimes crack and bleed.  But she tears the boots off the minute I’m not looking, and I have limited patience for dog-dressing.


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