There was no wind to speak of when I took Jeb the Wonder Dog out a little bit ago, but it still was colder than last night by a metric shit ton. I was prepared to grab the Wonder Dog and squeeze the shit out of him so we could go home, because no way could I endure the 30-minute ordeal of the night before. After 5 minutes, my fingertips were causing me pain, despite my gloves. Fortunately, the Wonder Dog -- who seemed entirely unconcerned by the temperature, by the way -- did his duty promptly and limited my exposure to near-death to 15 minutes. Upon my return to civilization, I found a comment to a post on the blog from a reader in Hawaii who wrote: "High 81 Low 68--whine to your heart's content."
That's just cruel.