With so much time without yard work or neighborhood strolls, I've started a new hobby of watching TV weather reports. Endless videos of hooded people digging tunnels through eight feet of snow, the horrific views of spinning cars and semis, courageous bundled reporters with mikes numbly warning me of the hazards that I just saw with my own eyes. Oh, and a doctor who turned up with the news that depression was normal for all of us.
Among the mysteries of the huge ice cave in which we're all trying to survive are the temperature reports on the screen that tell us, say, it is minus 2.4 degrees outside our door but the good news is that it feels like minus 2.3 degrees! Don't know the point of the fractional difference, but I want to scream that I'll be the one to decide what it feels like as I reach for another sweater.