I’m feeling the cold in my bones again today. Goose bumps everywhere. January is the month of three-dog nights.
No ordinary hoodie for me – I’m wearing a big old bunny hug, and it still feels like Siberia in here. If I could scrape together enough loonies and toonies and a good bit of moxie, I’d scoot on over to Timmies for a double double to warm myself up.
Then maybe I could go join the rink rats, pretend there’s a lineup from Winterpeg, Manisnowba, or some such team from away. Hoot and holler for a bit; things like dick smack cherry picker, goal suck, hoser; until they’ve had the biscuit and take off, eh? That kind of thing can get you all toasty.
But I don’t want to blow this pop stand until these sub-zero temperatures take a hike. Nope, gonna hold up and take it easy. Down east they’ve got the snow blanket too, megalopolis to the boonies, all snowed in and snowed under.
What can you do, except get yourself snug as a bug. Knock off, hang loose. Put your feet up and hunker down.