I can see my breath in the kitchen.
I went outside to take photos of the Christmas tree lot down the street and I froze solid and now I am dead, the end.
Okay, not really. I am just an icicle huddling under blankets. It's been over half an hour, and I'm still an icicle.
Something I noticed in the last few days is that, because I am never actually comfortably warm, because my hands, specifically, are never actually comfortably warm, they burn when I get in the shower. The water is a fine temperature for the rest of me, but my hands burn like they are being re-heated after an actual freezing event.
My bedroom is, by the way, heatable. There is a thermostat on the wall that controls the electric heater. But it takes a while to warm up, and when I turn it off at night, the room is quickly as cold as the rest of the house. (I realized approximately yesterday that half of my room is above a porch. I need a rug for this room immediately. Only I can't afford it.)
To provide some context, when I woke up on Sunday morning, it was 49 degrees in the bathroom. The floor was 49 degrees, anyway. The bathroom has a heated floor, but it takes a while to heat up.
This here blog has basically become Chronicles of the Ice Age. Why is this winter so cold? I promise that it is colder than last year.