It's cold outside. Very cold. In fact, it's so cold that I don't have enough adjectives to describe how cold it is. I have an ancient thermometer hanging on my porch wall, but it's broken so I can't say for sure what the temperature is (and don't ask why it's still hanging there...memo to self: ditch the broken thermometer asap). Based on Facebook posts and the news, I guess it's below zero. Like, 20 below. A friend called a few minutes ago and said her thermometer says 16 below. Whatever, minus 16 or minus 20, it's just too cold. Harry refused to go outside this morning, just refused. I tossed him out the back door then stared pensively out the window to make sure he didn't turn into a frozen fishstick. He did his business in record time and was back in the house approximately 14 seconds later. So yeah, it's cold. Who needs a thermometer when you've got a dog?
Speaking of cold and animals, I think I have a family of squirrels taking refuge in the attic. I hear them every morning racing around up there, lying to myself that it's really a pigeon clambering in the gable of my bedroom sleeping porch, in which there is a hole. I don't want to check the attic because A) how do I get them out if squirrels really are up there?; B) if I could figure out how to remove them they'd be freezing outside and I would feel guilty (sort of); and C) what if it isn't squirrels? What if it's a couple of raccoons who managed to get to my third floor space and then challenge me and my squirrel-banishing broom as I peep past Christmas decor and empty suitcases? What if I end up with angry raccoon teeth clamped to my leg? So I've decided to believe it's squirrels and that I don't care. I'll deal with it in the spring, if spring ever comes.
Heard the news that the father of an old friend passed away today. He'd led a good life, was 89. Still, it's hard to see the elders pass. My 40th high school class reunion is coming up this summer, another clear indication that time is most certainly marching on.