How cold is it?
It's so cold that:
- When I turned the car on in the garage, the thermometer read "22". By the time I got to the gas station, which was in the sun, it read "4". At 4:20PM.
- In the time it took to get out of the car, stick my card in the slot on the pump, remove the handle, unscrew the gas cap, and start fueling, the brisk wind (I want to say that the wind chill at the time was like ten or fifteen below) had chilled my hands so much that I could hardly feel my fingers to get my gloves on and my hands hurt. In about a minute of exposure.
- While I was in the grocery store for about fifteen minutes, a pretty sheet of icicles had formed in the Bimmer's tread patterns, connecting the tires to the ground. The car actually crunched as it broke free.
- Driving home, I was on the shady side of the street. The thermometer in the car read "1".
Roseholme Lane, out in front of the cottage, is a pretty, white, unbroken sheet of uniformly skating-rink-smooth compacted snow. I heart traction control. The Monon Trail just blocks away, however, has been freshly plowed again this afternoon. You know, in case anyone wants to go jogging or bicycling in subzero temperatures.
Incidentally, thanks to this giant hickey in the jet stream (which, I'd like to remind everyone, is all Canada's fault) it was over thirty degrees warmer in Fairbanks, Alaska today than it was in Indianapolis, Indiana.