You open the dryer and feel an icy draft. I had never thought about it, but it makes sense—that duct is connected directly to outside.
Your microwave feels like the refrigerator. And when you cook on the stove below it, frost forms around the vents on the underside. (This only happens when we have a fire going—something to do with the pull of air.)
You have to go get your son from the bus stop, which is at the main road just after the neighbor’s house, not far at all. You bundle up to the hilt—long underwear, winter clothes, wool socks, snow pants, two coats, hat, scarf, snorkel parka hood—the works. You step out and think, wow, I bundled up well, I’m feeling nice and warm! And by the time you get halfway to the bus stop, you’re freezing! (It was 27 below at the time.)
You’ve got THIS forming inside your doors and windows, despite Arctic-rated double-pane windows.
When you turn the heat up from 60 to 70 in the morning, it takes 3 hours and it’s still not quite 68 degrees in your house.
Xander doesn’t have outside recess for over a week. They stay inside if it’s below 20 below, and his recess is right after lunch, the warmest part of the day.
Steam is billowing off of the partially frozen river. It is quite an impressive phenomenon to behold.
Your heating oil bill is bigger than your grocery bill (and your grocery bill is three times what it was in Colorado—ouch).
You get all excited when you see that it’s supposed to get up to 22 degrees tomorrow! Woohoo! That’s over 50 degrees warmer than last week; let’s go out and play!
School is cancelled. OK, that hasn’t happened yet, luckily! But when it does, then I’ll really know it’s cold. They cancel school when it’s colder than 55 below. Whoa!