It's 5:00 a.m. MST. And it's -12 degrees outside. -12. Minus. Twelve. I can hardly fathom it being this cold, even in Pocatello, Idaho.
The skin on my hands keeps cracking, no matter how much lotion (or what kind) I use. The vent over my kitchen range leaks air and is mighty uncomfortable to be around unless the stove is running at full tilt. The dog and I have a competition to see who can block the gas fire in the family room and hog all the heat.
It's so cold I could shut off the freezer out back and it wouldn't make any difference to the meat.
BUT... but... but... but! There was a little oasis of warmth in my bed last night. No, I'm not talking about my husband -- this is a G-rated blog, after all. And I'm not talking about the dog because he's not allowed to sleep on our bed. I'm talking about our brand new heated mattress pad. Oh, the bliss of that electrical gizmo! I had it set just on Low and it was incredible. The fact that I am up early this morning didn't have anything to do with being cold, I assure you. And my poor feet didn't complain as much when I got out of bed, so perhaps the warmth will help speed up their healing.
I loves me a dual-controlled mattress pad.
And if the dog knew, we'd never get him off our bed.