For months, I imagined that I would write a post in the dead of winter describing my sufferings in the bitter cold. It is bitter cold: right now (10:00 am) it's -29°c. But I'm not suffering, at least not anymore.
At first, the cold was a major shock. If you're not dressed properly, you will definitely suffer. I remember walking to a meeting in December. I had a warm hat and a decent coat, but I had forgotten about my legs. In minutes, the cold bit sharply through my trousers, stinging the skin on my thighs until they went numb. I had to keep my hands in my pockets; even with gloves, my fingers turned to ice.
One weekend, it got down to -37°c, almost to the point where Fahrenheit and Celsius temperatures are identical (-40°c). I would not leave the house, or go near the windows and doors. I survived on rice and boiled eggs, and interacted with the outside world through text messages and the Internet. Thank goodness for Facebook.