Baby, It's Cold Outside

It is a fitting title, despite being one of my least favorite Christmas songs. (especially the version that Regis Philbin recorded a couple years ago) Never the less, baby, it's cold outside. That song was on one of the in-store CD's while I worked at Old Navy, (or Old Slavey as I fondly recall) and every 90 minutes I was subjected to Dean Martin's sexual innuendos and probably the earliest reference to date rape in pop culture. Everytime that song came over the house speakers, I wanted to run out of the building yelling "please somebody put me out of my misery."

But I'm getting off the subject. It is REALLY cold outside. Despite my multiple layers (cotton knit and flannel shirts, fleece vest, hooded sweatshirt, leather jacket, and two pairs of pants) I still felt cold during my walk to work. I might as well have been wrapped in Saran Wrap. I've been inside for about four hours and I still can't feel my cheeks.

Considering the generous snow fall we received last week (see previous post) lack of decent plowing techniques (also in prior post) and the frigid air cast over the inland northwest, our roads, sidewalks, and parking lots make for interesting navigation. It's too bad I don't own a pair of ice skates, I could skate to work rather than walk. The mile long walk to work is rather slippery, however I manage to get through the ShopKo parking lot (and my employer's parking lot) with no problems. The road outside my apartment causes no problems. For the most part I have a safe and enjoyable journey, provided I have my gloves, and some good music to listen to.

Oddly enough, the only place where my feet lose grip on a regular basis is in the hospital parking lot. I don't know why, but that seems to be the slickest part of my 20 minute commute (walk) to work. Oh well. If I fall and shatter my tail bone, at least it will be a short trip to the ER.