I just had that familiar feeling that comes near February 1st in teaching, the feeling that you're not sure how you'll ever make it through the dark and dismal winter with its indoor recesses and increased crankiness. And then this year we got an extra shot: dark, dismal, and colder than it's been in decades! The windchills are supposed to get down to -50 or -60 degrees Fahrenheit; the actual air temps are supposed to be as low as -25.

So, the miserable, triple-threat winter actually offered us a reprieve: we can't go to school for a few days. We'll rest and recharge and not suffer frostbite within five minutes of being outside. That's what the weather service said, btw. Frostbite will begin within five minutes of exposing any skin to the elements. Can't do bus stops in those conditions.

I'm using the time on these three days to make some strides on my second book. In fact, yesterday, I wrote more than 2,000 words! Today, I'm planning to set a more reasonable, and yet still impressive, goal of 1,000 words. Who knows? Maybe I'll surpass it.

I'll also do my hand exercises. And, I'll read.

There are other people for whom these days won't be so pleasant--people with jobs that can't be canceled, people with toddlers who morph into living terrors outside of routine, people who don't have a warm place to be that's all their own. I wish I could make this vortex more enjoyable for these folks. I wish I could get them a warm cup of coffee.

First, Dan came into our bedroom, smugly snatched the fleece vest of his I’ve been wearing off the rug, and whipped it back on his body while looking at me disapprovingly.

“Wow,” I said. “I hope you’re feeling good about yourself. Chastising me for wearing your clothes, which I’ve been doing or OBVIOUS reasons.”

He said, “But you always wear this.” Still I could tell he was starting to break a bit.

“Well, now it’s different. So thanks for pointing out just how large I am.”

That worked. He felt bad.

Then, I started taking the sheets off the bed, as I do most every week, to put them in the washer.

“What are you doing??” he gasped, exhibiting the amount of shock that would be appropriate should I have taken out a hypodermic and suddenly injected myself with heroin.

“I’m washing them! These have been on the bed for TWO WEEKS, not that you would ever notice something like that.”

He laughed. I laughed. And then I realized that the reason we all need to wear fleece vests is that it’s fourteen degrees-below-zero outside today. And fifty-six degrees inside our family room.