Contrary to popular belief, the language of the Eskimo contains about the same number of words for snow as English does. The Sami people, however, have hundreds of words for it.

Today, I have just one… shit.

That white shit made it hard to open the storm door. There’s a layer covering the porch. I can see the car in the driveway… the soft, white outline of it. The driveway itself… well, the snowblower should take care of that. Of course that only gets me to the street, which hasn’t been cleared yet.

I wonder what the neighbors are thinking of doing. There’s Gary… I’ll ask him… when he finishes scraping his windshield…

Gary’s not scraping his windshield. Gary’s not moving. Neither is that guy in mid-stride on the sidewalk. Nothing is moving. Nothing.

It seems like the whole world is frozen.

Not me! I’m getting my ass back inside. Yes, back inside where it’s warm… back inside… as soon as I turn around… back inside…

Oh, shit…