Cold round here

Whoo boy.

Last night’s temperature near here was -40 degrees.

Well, I mean degrees Celsius. But by a happy accident minus forty Celsius is equal to minus forty Fahrenheit. (Is equal to “you pisses and youse dick is frozen to the ground by the way of a pillar of yellow ice; nice job idiot” cold.)

Don’t know how cold it was this morning exactly, but consider this: Jumped on my bicycle; after a few kilometers found it making a weird bumpity-bumpity motion. Reason? Back tire flat. Pretty certain it was the temperature that made it brittle enough. (Didn’t see any glittering bottle-fragments of a youthful Friday evening, you see.)

Bought a half-liter bottle of cola on the way; some half-hour later was where I was going to. Set the bottle down, picked it up a few minutes later, and noticed there was still a piece of ice the size of my fingertip in it.

So, it’s cold round here. I’m shivering, afraid to check the temperature, and half expecting little birds to fall frozen from the skies and shatter against the icy pavement, “and loving it!

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