Baby, it’s cold outside. Brrrrrrrr. Shiver. My friend called me earlier this afternoon, trying to psych herself up to brave the elements. The conversation went something like this:
“Have you been out yet?”
“No, but I’m looking out the window. The sky’s beautiful. Does that count?”
“God, it’s cold.”
“No kidding. I’m not sure if I want to go out. Are you going out?”
“I really should before it gets dark. It will be depressing if I don’t.”
“Yeah, but it’s cold as fuck out there. I’m nice and warm in here. Still, it’s such a nice day.”
“Where did all this wind come from?”
What she did, I do not know, but I did indeed go outside. Or, more specifically, I walked outside and got promptly into my car and took a drive around the salt marshes in Ipswich. Here are some pictures.
After my little jaunt, I stopped into the specialty grocery shop in downtown Ipswich for some good-quality balsamic vinegar and mustard. The shopkeeper and I both commented on how frigid it was. The last time I’d been in the shop, it was seventy-five degrees, and he had the door wide open. That was two weeks ago. We just aren’t ready for this, we said.
I’m trying to psych myself to go out again, this time to a movie. I just might make a nice dinner and have a salad with balsamic vinaigrette instead.