25 degrees below zero.
That’s what the temperature was here at the Casa Del Sank-a-Ray this week. Fuck lake Wo-Be-Gone and that washed up old windbag Garrison Keiler, it was damned cold. How cold? Supposedly it was warmer on Mars than it was here in St. Paul. Lame.
Journalistic hyperbole for gawds sake. First of all the average temps on Mars are around 50 degrees below zero, and that’s on a good day. Windchill is three times that. Second of all while it might have been warmer at the Martian equator, at least according to the NASA rover crawling around up there at cool million dollars a day, Minnesota is a full 45 degrees north of the equator so you can’t really compare apples to apples. Of course we’re colder, we’re further north.
Yeah so the red dirt on Mars was a tish warmer than the Minnesota for a bit, at only 25 below we were a balmy 25 degrees warmer than Mars on Monday. 25 degrees is a lot, it’s difference between long pants and shorts in Texas on any given January day.
Supposed to be 38 degrees here in Minnie on Saturday. I fully expect to see some shorts, hell days are getting longer now, it is practically spring.
But really, how cold was it? What’s 25 below feel like? For one thing your snot freezes when you go outside. For another there was ice on the front door knob. Looked like a good science fair project on conductivity.
My office on the four-season porch was 49 degrees on Monday morning. That’s uncomfy for sitting and typing. Not to mention the widows there were caked in ice. Inside the house mind you.
I took advantage of some warmer temps on Saturday and broke down and shrink wrapped the windows on the porch. Spread the 3M plastic window wrap over them, taped it down and hit it with the hair dryer. Made a big difference except for the spot where I accidently burned through the plastic, the hole made a nice jet stream of cold air blowing in so hard the dog moved out to the living room. Duct tape fixed that. It’s bad enough that we’re going to be looking through windows that look the bubble boy’s chamber for the next few months, worse is that we have a piece of duct tape slapped on the window at eye level.
“Will I have to look at that all year” someone asked.
I see we’re starting the New Year off with some keen well considered inquiries. I didn’t bother to answer that one because I’m pretty sure that the questioner will figure out that particular answer on her own.
Dog doesn’t like the cold. Opened the back door for him to step out for a turd on Monday night. Dummy froze up- wouldn’t go out. Just stood there, sniffing the air, probably trying to figure out where a good spot to crap in the basement instead might be. He’d like a spot where he wouldn’t get busted right way. Sorry dog, standing in front of an open door at 25 below zero will get you a foot in your ass every time, this is no time to dilly dally. Gentle kick to encourage him to get outside. We have about three seconds of any open door before Mrs S starts screaming from the other room “I FEEL A DRAFT!!!” Jeez. Never mind that she’s three floors away and has her bedroom door closed.
Apparently when G- d bestowed bionic hearing and a built in lie detector on my bride he also included some sort of hypersensitive atmospheric sensing mechanism which can anticipate the mere possibility of cold air in a given space, much less real cold. Women really have it all don’t they, so many gifts. Until they have to pee that is, then we dudes have the trump. Although, at these temperatures, that advantage seems to have um, “diminished” too. This is climate where you have to check driver’s licenses to figure out one’s gender after all.
So the dog… typically he’d follow his little snow trail out to Mrs S’s flowerbeds, his favorite dumping ground, and enrich the soil far from the house. Not at 25 below apparently. At these temps he takes one step out, turns around and looks at me, hunches over, pops the tail skywards and proceeds to drop a Alpo steamer right on the deck, not 8” from the damned window. Then he barks to let me know he’s done and wants to come back in. Total elapsed time, 4 seconds.
No dummy that dog. Smarter than some kids I’ve raised.
Of course Mrs S picks that time to come downstairs to watch her stories, looks out on the deck, frowns up and says “Will I have to look at that all year?”
I guess since I didn’t answer her last time I decided it best to combine my responses this time.
“The tape or the turd?”
If you could bottle sarcasm this family would have a franchise in “looks” alone.
“Tape’s gonna be there until March, 45 more days until I take down the plastic.” Or we get new windows which ever comes first, so it could be up there a couple years or so. (The shrink wrap by the way has made all the difference. Despite looking like a cheap trailer home, it is markedly warmer in my office, got up to a balmy 57 degrees by Monday, almost took my pants off)
“The turd on the other hand I will remove in a few short minutes, or just after it turns into a poopsicle”, when they’re frozen they’re easier to pick up and toss over the fence. I like snowbirds for neighbors. BTW in case you’re keeping track from this fall, the sun tea container, still out on the deck next door and now… a whole new meaning to ice tea.
“Well” she said “good to know you gotta plan” and with that she went back into hibernation.
And three days later, I just noticed, the poppsicle… is still there, waiting for the Spring Poop Harvest.