I’m on call tonight. I slept in this morning. It was glorious. There was a severe cold weather warning for Toronto this morning. Had I walked to work, like I did yesterday, with my facial skin exposed to the atmosphere red with the wind chill, I would’ve risked frostbite at 10 min. It’s currently warmed up to 15ºC below zero outside. Meanwhile, in Perth it’s forecast 34ºC above zero tomorrow. I’m not sure which weather extreme I prefer; at least I can get to work without needing to shower here. But I do gaze through the double-glazed balcony door glass at my frozen pot plant tree and regret not bringing it inside before it froze.
One thing about the cold weather is that getting out of bed every day is increasingly difficult. From the warm cocoon of the blanket and heated condominium air, and the Glen-shaped indent in our almost expired IKEA foam mattress I look out down to Hayden St, the footpaths lined with little snowbanks. It’s stopped snowing today. My brain struggles to feel fully activated until mid-morning. Is this ageing? Is this reflective of poor sleep? Is it just the warmth of the air conditioning at work making me sleepy? Today I tried a 2.5 km jog on the treadmill downstairs to wake me up, and it worked. Gone are the days when my alarm would sound and I’d spring out of bed, wide awake. It now takes 20 min of flailing about. Robin Skouteris mashups blaring in my earphones.