Yeah one of those kind of days. Where you’re scraping off your car at eight in the morning and it’s so cold (I heard -28 wind chill on the radio this morning) that the snot inside you’re nose freezes right up and you’re finger tips are so cold they hurt. Where the dogs no longer have any interest in playing in the snow in the back yard and instead prance around by the back door waiting to come back inside. Where layers of salt don’t even put a dent in the layers of snow packed down on every street in this city. Where every fiber of your being screams at you to stay curled up in your warm bed while the wind whispers through your fifty-year-old, drafty house windows.
Interestingly enough this comic is dated February 5 (1988). Also interesting, Weather Underground reports that that day in Grand Rapids was a balmy fourteen degrees.