Why do people insist on living in this godforsaken icebox?

It's been cold here...ridiculously cold...extremity-losing cold...and yet we all continue to function. My kids still had school (although recess was moved indoors), I came to work, one person that I work with walked to work (and he lives a goodly ways away...).

I know why I stay; I have a black-mailish-type arrangement with my mother. As long as her grandchildren continue to live in the same city as she does, she will continue to pay for my cleaning lady to come once a week. I, for one, am willing to tolerate weeks-long cold-snaps in exchange for guaranteed clean toilets and folded underwear that require little or no effort on my part. For those of you, though, who have no such arrangement with your parental figures or other people-who-make-more-money-than-you-and-will-depend-on-you-when-they're-old, I have one word of advice: run. Run far, run fast, and preferably in a Southerly direction (although living in Bush's America, I suspect, may suck worse than living in a province that hits low temperatures roughly on par with Santa's neighbourhood on a chilly day).

Peace out. Gotta go start my car...I hope.

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