We finally got what we deserved, being Wisconsin and all.
An arctic blast.

Cars aren't starting. I had to pick my daughter up from work.
The furnace can't seem to keep up with the cold, and runs endlessly.

Hairdos are a mess, hair wild like straw from woolen caps.
Skin chapped from the icy wind, cheeks an angry red.
Long underwear hugs our torsos and limbs, a cocoon of comfort, and we don't care how fat we look.

We fight off sleep, our brains want to hibernate.
The dog looks at you like you as if you have gone insane.
"Go outside? You try it and see how it feels, squatting in the snow."

Piles of tax papers are scattered on the table, weakening us further. Can we make it to the couch?

Only one hardy breed of human being will shun the edict to stay indoors.

The weatherman announces it's below zero and suddenly thousands of senior citizens get into their cars and drive to the grocery store for bread and milk.

I'm not kidding. The same phenomenon happens when a snow storm blows this way.

Pick 'n Save in Fond du Lac was packed Saturday with folks carrying AARP cards. Not to diss them, I certainly wouldn't do that to a statistical majority I will be soon be joining.

Maybe it's one of those genetic memory things Dr. Darold Treffert is talking about. He's the famous Fond du Lac psychiatrist, world renowned for his studies on the autistic savant, and now, this genetic memory thing that theorizes our DNA includes memories from our ancestors.

Like when we were trapped in an icy cave without any mastodon soup.

I'm sure our elderly brethren are hearkening back to the days of their own youth, when winter's worst wrath meant roads shut down for days, water pumps froze and pipes burst, hot water bottles warmed beds, carrots and potatoes were rotting in the root cellar and livestock keeled over because the crops didn't last through the long frozen season.

Excuse me, I think I'm heading out to Pick 'n Save.