Yesterday, the weather report announced an extreme cold alert for Toronto, and advised that exposed skin could freeze in 10 minutes. It was something like -42 C, with wind chill.
“I’m not going anywhere!” I announced to Peter. And neither was my baby. “Her skin could freeze! In TEN minutes! TEN!”
By 3:00 today I was suffering from a bad case of cabin fever. “I guess I’ll take a walk,” I said.
In preparation, I piled on:
- two pairs of pants
- a lumberjack shirt over my dress
- the largest mittens I own
- faux-Sorel winter boots
- an infinity scarf
- one of those Russian secret agent hats that either looks really hip or slightly ridiculous, I haven’t decided, but I put it on at least once every winter when the cold breaks me
I stepped outside and pressed my scarf up around my face. No way was I going to lose my nose. But down on College street, I was dismayed to see people out and about, in various states of weather-snubbing attire (or lack of):
- at least eight people without gloves, including an elderly woman
- several men without hats, including a bald man
- a baby!
I grumbled about them all the way home. Who were these people? What was wrong with them? Did they not care about their fingers? Their ears? “Ain’t no time to be a hero, people,” I muttered to myself. “Ain’t no time to be a hero.”
I got inside and told Peter about all the weather-flaunters. “People be crazy,” I said, pulling up CBC Weather to show him how low the temperature was.
It had risen to a balmy -13 C.
Heh.
Cough.
Idiot.
