Wake today. It’s cold here. It’s so cold my metaphor generator is running at about 2% capacity so I can only get it to say “It’s colder than ….”

It’s been a nice time visiting with the inlaws. Sisterinlaws drink all night and then wake to say “This milk has a horrid aftertaste” (the milk tastes fine) “Og put the bags in the sink overnight-(Canadian milk is sold in plastic bags, everyone has a little pitcher that holds exactly one bag and you pour it right out of the bag) that MUST be it, the metal taste from the sink leached into the milk!!” Yep. That’s it, for sure, the inert stainless of the sink seeped through the impermeable plastic bag and tainted the milk. It couldn’t be that the TASTE IS IN YOUR MOUTH FROM THE SEVENTEEN BLOODY MARYS YOU DRANK LAST NIGHT.

Even in the frozen tundra, I’m surrounded by people utterly out of their minds. You’d think the weather would kill off someone that nuts.