Driving my ice box

Judging by yesterday's blog, you probably think I'm content, sitting in holiday bliss with a hot cup of nog and some Manheim Steamroller on the radio.

Not so ... because it's FUCKING cold outside.

I headed out to my car around 5:30 this morning to head to the gym. I made sure to put on a hat and gloves, because I heard the temperature was dropping overnight.

I sat in my car as it warmed up. The hat and gloves were NOT enough. My fingers froze, my nose ran, my body shivered...

I looked at my car clock and thermometer. 9 degrees. NINE degrees?

Now, I can handle the mid-30s. I'll even deal with a meager 25 degrees, on occasion. But 9?

That's a single digit. I can count that number on my fingers. I thought, "There are more holy commandments than the weather is warm right now. WTF am I doing outside?"

On top of that, my windshield was completely iced over. I wasn't about to wait 15 more minutes, cutting my workout down to a measly 45. So what do I do? Crank the heat, turn on the defrost and GO.

I drove halfway there with my head ducked and aligned with the middle console, so I could peak out the center of the windshield, where the ice melted.

I made it and didn't die.

And it's only December.