On winter mornings, I'd run to the kitchen and melt the ice off the window with a cloth soaked in hot water, so I could read the outdoor thermometer. I'd be impressed when it dropped below -20 C, and would complain how boring the winter was when it was only -15 C. After thawing the congealed shampoo in the bathroom, I'd shower with a trickle of warm water and get cleaned up. With still-wet hair, I'd then run to the school bus stop several kilometers away, wearing torn jeans and a denim jacket. I had zero body fat to insulate me, too.
This morning, I whined when I woke up and it was 14 C indoors. My shampoo was still liquid, and I had unlimited scalding-hot water. It was only -19 C when I went out to be with Sandy, wearing a fleece vest, down jacket, and two hats. I have as much blubber insulating me as a seal, and yet I still was shivvering and complaining after a short walk from Ossington Subway Station to the Hogtown Vegan restaurant. Sandy and I then decided it was too cold to go to a comedy club afterwards as we had planned, so we both went home to hibernate. The short walk back from the bus stop nearly gave me frostbitten cheeks, and my knees and thighs are still chilled. I'm now snuggled under a down duvet with a fleece blanket on top, with an electric blanket on top of that, drinking a mug of hot tea, and I'm still bleating about how cold it is.
My neighbors, on the other hand, are sitting out on their doorstep chatting while smoking. Instead of complaining, they are laughing and enjoying the crisp, clear night sky. I don't know how they manage to do it in such cold weather. They must have antifreeze in their bong or something.