Frostbitten Update From Stephen King Country
Dear Viola:
It’s ridiculously cold when I get up this morning. The weather app on my phone tells me that it’s -6 out there, but if you factor in the wind, you’re looking at a -19 day, give or take.
This is, I am told by locals, No Biggie. One of them has told me that his mother remembered when -40 wasn’t uncommon. Just put on another sweater. Put some more wood on the fire. Get another dog up in the bed to sleep with.
I am from California, Viola. It’s fucking cold out there.
There is a strong possibility of a foot and a half of snow between Sunday night and Monday morning, so we’ll see if I’ll be making it to work or not then. I have learned over the years to not trust the forecast to be completely accurate, but I’d say planning at least for twelve inches or so would be prudent. The timing of it is what the issue is. If it was falling during the daylight hours, I’d just go out with the snowblower and keep on it. I’m not about to go strap on a headlamp and try to do it in the dark, though. That’s a good way for me to end up an ice man that they don’t find again until the spring thaw.
Again, it’s too fucking cold out there.
Drop me a line, young lady. I need some San Franciscan winter warmth to heat me up. Remind me that you are not a Violacicle in a dark attic in an old Victorian, please.
—Sebastian
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