Thank God for weekends. Nothing bad happened this week, and I wasn't particularly busy, but I feel like I've been on the go all week. Saturday, with its chance to sleep in, cook eggs and bacon, and then have the whole day to myself (at least, until we have children), is always a special opportunity. I always feel bad when I end up wasting it. With me being at work all week, Saturday has turned into my best day to write.
Dan Kukwa tells me that he's gotten the writing bug back, so perhaps he, Erin and I will head out someplace, perhaps to Oakville, or even to Bronte, like we did eleven months ago to sit at a coffee shop and write a while. Sitting and writing over coffee is a nice thing to share with friends and family. In a week's time, Erin and I will be heading into Toronto to share coffee and writing time with Cameron.
The wind has a lot to answer for. For the past week, a mass of arctic air has sunk over Quebec, Ontario and much of the east coast. Poor Florida is facing the prospect of a hard freeze, and everybody is shivering...
...except me, as it turns out. Temperatures here have hovered around below the old Fahrenheit Zero, but here I walk in my trenchcoat, my wool scarf, my gloves and no hat, and I find conditions to be quite tolerable. However, there's one difference: since we're in the centre of this arctic mass, the jet stream has been well below us. The weather is stable (clear) and not windy.
Just as when a humidex reading of 43'C feels hotter than an actual dry heat of 43'C, a wind chill reading of -18'C feels colder than an actual calm cold of -18'C. So, this brings up the question: if humidex and wind chill factors are supposed to describe how a temperature *feels*, why do they feel colder than they're obviously supposed to?