It’s about ten o’clock in the morning and it’s -14 degrees outside. That’s Fahrenheit, for any Europeans who may stumble across this. It’s the coldest day Chicago has seen in 20 years. Friends on Facebook have reported eyelids freezing shut during their morning commutes.
And I’m missing it because I have the flu.
Don’t get me wrong. It’s not that I want to have to trudge about in this weather (-46 degrees, if you factor in the windchill), but I do feel a need to be able to say I experienced it along with everybody else. My condo is, if nothing else, well-insulated, and our furnace (knock on wood) has been holding up nicely. Mandy and I are as comfortable as two people with the flu can be. I find myself thinking of errands I might run, just so I can run outside for a few minutes and really experience this phenomenon the news is calling “the arctic vortex.” That sounds like something out of The X-Files. And I’m missing it.
I could just throw some pants on and step out onto my balcony, but that feels like cheating. Plus, I don’t want to let any of that cold air into the apartment. Did I mention there are sick people in here? Seriously. I stayed home from rehearsal last night, and will probably do so again tonight. I had to cancel a voice-over audition today because I have no voice. If anyone needs to record some Lovecraftian croaking sounds, give me a call. It’s like Innsmouth up in here. I’m hopeful that by tomorrow I’ll be able to complete full sentences without getting all gross and phlegmy. Fingers crossed.
But maybe I’ll have to do a quick run to the grocery store. It’s just across the street. Just a quick jaunt back and forth, through the arctic vortex.