Okay folks, this isn't funny anymore.

Yes, this is a writing blog but I do occasionally pause to, well, talk about the weather. And to reference the person who is best at defining the funny/not funny status of any situation (Dad), this week's 'cold snap' crossed that line at 2.35 this afternoon.

So, when I was stuck in, what in normal conditions would be an average pothole, I stopped being smug and got down the basic goal of survival. I managed to free myself of the chasm (how much does a new clutch for a Honda Prelude cost, I wonder?) only to be faced with the thought 'How am going to get up the hill into Parkwest?' Half an hour (that's how long it took to travel a quarter of a mile) of considering my options - Do I sleep in my car or battle the elements? Is it really okay to drink your own urine? How long before I resort to cannibalism? - I found myself.....well, at home, to be honest. So much for all that paranoia.

But that's it though, I am not leaving the warm and food-enhanced sanctuary of my apartment until the weather stops being so mean. I wonder how long I can make that half-pint of milk last.

Thanks for lunch Catherine, by the way.