I am not a Clydesdale but...

Apparently when you live in -30s, you adapt. Also people remind you daily that being bfff with the double-duvet is not a great socializing option and they mind if you are not paying attention. So you grumble, put on about twelve layers of clothing and go check out the winter festivals.. as if you didn't have enough of the snow already. After about three such expeditions, the festivals become more or less a continuous walk-on-the snow, try-to-warm-yourself-by-chopping-some-wood, failure-acknowledgement, hot-chocolate-and-hand-warmer-in-pocket process. I have a feeling that unless you are a Shiba Inu or a little Clydesdale, you are naturally at a comparative disadvantage as far as frolicking in the snow is concerned. However, I am not any variety of dog or pony. So my feelings are not that hard to decipher. Yet, today I went out of the house with absolutely no provocation and stayed out for an hour shooting my feathered neighbors in the Mill Creek.

Since then I am in bed with no amount of hot chocolates making any difference. Somebody kill me now.