Can the brain freeze? Not like the ice cream inducing phenomenon that causes a serious case of the willies.
I am curious if it can become too cold to function. Kind of like gloveless fingers when exposed to 30-something degree temperatures for several hours.
Why would hands be gloveless in that kind of weather, you may ask?
Primarily because said fingers are inside, not outside.
And I can’t type in gloves.
No, I am not torturing myself intentionally, just experiencing another power outage on a frigid Saturday afternoon.
Does this column sound like déjà vu? It does to me, too.
Maybe because I wrote a column about another electrical outage a month ago. And in the time period between that outage and this one we also had a second.
I am becoming quite the pro at layering, bundling and the strategic placement of flashlights.
It’s not unexpected, these bouts of powerless days.
As I wrote in my previous column, one expects such challenges when living in a rural area.
But three in a month, in the dead of winter, is a bit much.
As each year of the calendar turns, I have found myself becoming more appreciative of optimism and less tolerant of pessimism.
I dislike negativity and naysaying, and much prefer to at least try to count my blessings.
(Yes, those parental adages finally sunk in.)
Not saying I don’t roll my eyes at slow traffic or at a half-dozen other things during the course of a day. But I also attempt to keep these aggravations to myself and not force them upon others.
I take pride in the fact that it takes a minimum of three incorrect orders at a drive-through restaurant (and usually five or more) for me to call in with a complaint.
And then it’s always about the onion on my burger that I requested to be left off.
You see, the onion can be wiped off, but its taste can not. Like the pickle, the onion soaks in to the very essence of the burger and remains ingrained. These toppings are unlike lettuce, which can be tossed in the trash and forgotten. Crisp greenery is more of a sound effect than flavor additive.
My apologies for digressing to fast food.
That’s a column for another day.
Another reason I try not to complain is the illumination I have gained covering crime and courts.
One of the first lessons this beat teaches is that no matter how bad you think you have it, others have endured much, much worse.
Spend a couple of years on child abuse cases and you will forever thank God for your wonderful family and that you weren’t brutally beaten to death at the hands of a monster before age 5.
Sadly, I am not exaggerating or being overly dramatic.
There are very real honors out there.
And thus, I have tried hard not to complain about the outages.
Also, given the current state of affairs in Texas and other parts of the country, it truly seems like a time to look for rainbows in the midst of storm clouds.
At least our water pipes didn’t freeze and burst.
Oh wait, that happened the week after Christmas.
No, I am not kidding.
But yes, I am griping.
Sometimes the simple act of writing one’s gripes can assist in bringing things into perspective.
Yes, we are cold — and my fingers are indeed numb — but it’s not like we’re stuck in the arctic without an igloo.
We have four walls around us, plenty of food and drinks, and enough blankets to squish a full-grown cat.
Once this column is typed the gloves will come on, and a couch cuddlefest with two German shepherds will commence.
We may not be toasty, but we will not freeze.
Eventually, power will be restored and the house will warm.
And, in due time, spring will arrive.
Let’s all give hope it’s an early one.
Samantha Perry is editor of the Daily Telegraph. Contact her at firstname.lastname@example.org. Follow her @BDTPerry.