Thursday . January 23 . 2003 . 1:43pm
freezing my boobs off
So we met with the minister ("interfaith spiritual counselor") yesterday, and liked him a lot. He's laid back and very open, but, you know, not so Wavy Gravy that you'd be worried about him spilling bong water on your wedding dress or anything. And, as an added plus, he has a swank British accent, which adds that right degree of decorum and Mister Belvedere-esque charm to the whole proceedings. The dotted line has been signed.
New York has been seized in the grip of an extreme cold spell this past week, with temperatures failing to break the freezing mark and evil gusty winds that threaten to take your whole face off. Do you know what I mean? When it's so cold that you feel as though your entire face has frozen into some sort of icy mask that you could just crack and gently lift off the surface of your skull? Sure you do. Right now it's 11 degrees. Fahrenheit. And that doesn't even factor in wind chill.
Even the dog thinks it's too cold. I tried to take her for a walk yesterday, and upon setting one foot outside onto the cold, cold sidewalk, she just sat down and refused to budge until I physically carried her back inside. I guess she's just content to stay indoors all day, only taking brief trips outside onto the balcony to create yet another frozen pee lake that won't defrost until mid-March. Anyone wanna go ice skating?