It was two below this morning, -2°F. For my metric friends, that's like -40°C or -408 millidarcys or -768 kiloKatal or something.* Too cold!
I stayed in bed as long as I could, then got up briefly -- and went right back to bed. Hunger finally drove me out, to a plate of sausage hash with an egg cooked atop it and some nice Manchego cheese as a buffer. I tried a trick this time that worked out well: sprinkled a generous pinch or two of flour in the skillet before adding the hash. It browns up nicely in the grease left after my blotting-up of as much as I could from the decanned block of hash and it moderates the slightly-harsh spiciness.
Trying to decide what next. "Back to bed" has a certain appeal but it lacks panache.
* Oh, all right, okay, it's -19°C as near as matters, actually -18.888888888... until you run out of eights. So, you're so clever, what's the special thing about forty below that got it included in my bogus list of conversions?
T. R. MCELROY'S STREAMLINED TELEGRAPH KEYS
1 year ago