....if it wasn't minus seven freakin' teen degrees out (I know, it's no North Bay). I'm glad I don't live in those townhouses though - viewed from the safety of my dining room. I'm on the third floor, but with the townhouses on the same level, it feels as though I live street level. But without the annoying, you know, other stuff. Bums. There, I've said it.
And for those of you thinking my Scottish blood might be running low in these new Yorkville veins; as I was in the aforementioned dining room, I noticed it was a bit nippy.
Thermographic evidence showed the temperature inside to be 14o. That's 58 in 'merican terms. And that's cold baby, in anything but penguin terms.
Eventually I will have to turn the heat up.
But until then, I won't have to worry about forgetting to put the milk back in the fridge.
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