C-c-cold

Thank God, it’s snowing again. It must be getting warmer. For the past few days the skies have been clear of cloud and precipitation. The sun has had complete access to glare across the snow left behind on Friday. It’s beautiful. And freezing.

For the first time in my life, I’ve found it impossible to roll a cigarette. Wind, rain and snow has never dampened my pursuit to make a cigarette, yet as I walk along the street, the numbing of my hands has made my task impossible.

While the Christmas card image of snow covered cars and pavements lasted just a day or so, the city looks different in the fall out of the arctic weather. Piles of snow are now tinted yellow. It would seem that there are as many dogs as people in the neighbourhood. I hazard to imagine the origins of the red tinted snow outside my supermarket.

From my window I can see a white expanse free of buildings or traffic. Last week there was a river, at least two hundred metres wide. I don’t think I’ll be the first person to test the security of the frozen water. Just thinking of my next trip outside brings on feelings of hypothermia.

When I do go outside, I’m attired in almost my entire wardrobe. I leave the doors and hinges, as it’s uncomfortable enough wearing three pairs of socks, a vest, long-johns (sexy!), jeans, t-shirt, a shirt, two jumpers, a scarf, gloves, hat and my shoes. God damn my fucking shoes. Of the three pairs I own, none are designed for the winter climate. The pair of Converse copies are like walking around bare-foot. My fancy shoes provide barely any more insulation. I opt for my trainers. They look shit and holes are appearing in the soles. However, they are my best option. Until I get paid, they are the only option. No one can look good in this kind of weather.