The windchill in Minneapolis registered around thirty below this morning, and I went to Target without a coat.
No, I'm not suicidal. No, my blood type isn't "antifreeze." I live in a building with underground heated parking, and it is worth every penny of rent I pay on days like this.
I needed groceries and laundry detergent if my Sunday plans of tv and meal prep were going to pan out, but when I woke up to this, all I wanted to do was stay buried under the covers whimpering:
That's ice INSIDE my windows. It's so cold the inside of my apartment is freezing.
I feel like I can't really complain, given at this very moment there are thousands of people just a few miles away voluntarily watching the Vikings play the Seahawks outside at TCF Bank Stadium. Then again, that's their choice, and there are few things I like enough to be outside in weather like this for four minutes, much less four hours.
Enter heated underground parking, at both my apartment and the downtown Target, and I was able to convince myself to gird my loins, put on pants that weren't flannel, and make a Target run. My car registered at a balmy 69 degrees when I started it in my apartment garage, and plummeted to -4 within about 3 minutes of being exposed to glacial tundra air. After about a half hour in Target, the car had warmed back up to 40 degrees when I made my exit to head home. No hat, scarf or mittens necessary: just two free hands to carry the groceries and a reminder that there are saving graces to this arctic weather.
You know you're a Minnesotan when this is the stuff deemed fairy-tale blogworthy. That said, thank you, dear apartment complex, and thank you, downtown Target, for making this hellish polar vortex a little more tolerable.
Off to brew yet another cup of tea and channel my inner Elsa...as much as I claim "the cold never bothered me anyway," we all know that's a lie. Here's to first-world luxuries and warmer days ahead!