"But... it was a dry cold."

Yes, those words actually exited my mouth today.

I spent Friday night hoping for a blizzard, partly because I've never seen one before, and it seemed like it would be sort of cool, and partly because I wanted a good excuse to miss my flight. It didn't especially help that I spent a couple of hours Friday morning answering questions from the office via e-mail. The kind of job security where they can't live without me for a week isn't really the kind I want.

Scott had to work Saturday morning, so I spent that time packing and fretting, and we had to leave for the airport not long after he got home, since we were relying on public transportation. Two long, cramped, uncomfortable flights later, I arrived in Austin around 10pm, only to be greeted by, you guessed it, freezing temperatures. Thirty-below in Canada translates to about 30 above in Texas, cold and soupy and far less pleasant than the colder temperatures seemed.

Then again, the company might've had something to do with it.

And it's been cold and soupy ever since then, foggy and drizzly and damp and altogether unpleasant. They've been the kind of days that I'd love to spend curled up in bed with a book, but instead, I've been back at work, answering more questions and getting back into the swing of things.

I'd rather be in Saskatchewan, truth be told.