I knew better to look at the weather app on my phone when I woke up this morning, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hopeful the weather goofs were wrong.

I, like most “dad types,” have a strange morbid fascination with extreme weather events. I think it’s brought forth from the same gene that some of us have for things like gas passing, belching, boogers, shaving scum, earwax, and turd size.

Anyway, the forecast was not wrong, telling me that it was -7˚F. With that, I immediately knew that an outdoor lumber was not on the table today. Well, at least not for me.

Sure, things warmed up from a laughable -7˚F to -5˚F as I type, and whilst I have a lot of cold-weather gear, I don’t have Alaska-Level-Type Cold Weather Gear. And I don’t see myself ever investing in A.L.T.C.W.G. for the two days every other year in which the temperature dips this low.

There are also the facts that the Fun Factor declines when it’s this cold, and that my camera, which struggles to hold power and acquire focus even in single digits temps, would most likely just laugh in my face, tell me to go to hell, and shut itself down.

Porch time. 10.15.25

So, I am inside for a couple of days, and dreaming about warmer days ahead, like the phone pic above that I took during one of our last warm weeks last October.

I was enjoying some porch time and was aware from the weather forecast that things were going to be changing soon. Not -7˚ type shit, but too cold to sit on the deck, with the warm sun beating down as I mindlessly stare at the trees, sipping hoppy beverages while listening to music. It’s kind of “my thing,” and I miss it so.

I took the photo and told myself to hold onto it and use it whenever the winter days are tempting me to go full Jack Torrance. And now, here we are.

Sadly, I may need to venture out into the cold to do some errands later, but I am actively looking for reasons not to. I think I can find one or two. Or -5.

Later.