I'm lying in bed yesterday evening, reading W. E. B. DuBois and watching a light snow fall on the bare-limbed trees outside my window. I am quite content - until I hear this interaction from my living room:
[friend #1]: Where are you off to?
[friend #2]: West Gym. Do you think I need a jacket? Probably not, right?
[friend #1]: No way, it's super warm out.
I drop my book, snatch my computer, and check the temperature.
It's eleven degrees out.
Oh gods of the cold, what sort of beautiful monsters have you created out of us?