I have been telling Sid and Etain, the two friends I usually email on a near-daily basis, that while our weather has me dressing in enough layers to make me look like a color-coordinated astronaut (quite a few people look like giant scoops of varied blends of yogurt or Play-Doh). Last night the last bus I could take broke down, I waited an hour for a bus in wind chills that were minus 30 degrees and pretty much seeing my life flash before my eyes, usually portions of my life that happened in the summer months. I thought of setting a fire, but all that was around me was frozen snow, and a briefly cackled like a hyena and wondered which layer of clothing would burn longest and that I wouldn't miss, and of course, cost the least amount. When I told Bart at work this morning, he said I should have walked to his house, maybe a half-mile away. I said that thought had also crossed my mind, but my legs were so cold, I moved like the Terminator would if he for some reason wore a diaper and for still another reason had crapped in them. Another bus finally showed up with a replacement driver, my feet warmed up about an hour after I arrived home, and I finally posted my photo of the cows looking at the meteor. That damn meteor was probably warmer than I about eighteen hours ago.
