Twenty-below this morning, which means thirty-below in the middle of town. The band's show at the East Sangerville Grange, scheduled for tonight, got canceled because the heating system can't hack the cold. This is a drag: we had such a good practice last night, and our friends were going to come hang around with us tonight, and they were going to eat cake and drink coffee, and Craig and I were going to sing a new song together, and now we're all disappointed.
Ah, well. Time to face the fact that my woodbox is almost empty. Time to dress like a toddler on a sled: double socks, heavy boots, snowpants, three coats, a thick scarf, an ugly hat, two pairs of gloves. That will barely get me through five minutes of fast outdoor work.
Somebody better make another pot of coffee while I'm gone.