It has been a quiet week in the parsonage, notwithstanding the lack of cooperation from Mr. Weatherman.
As the thermometer dipped, I ducked inside and sought the warmth of my easy chair. Since coming to Florida, my blood must have thinned to anemic levels. I know cold is cold -- but I have been freezing my dignity off.
It has been so cold my teeth have been chattering so much the good Mistress of the Parsonage made me take them out of the glass next to our bed.
It has been so cold my shivers have been wearing sweaters.
It has been so cold my unborn great-great-grandchildren have begun to shiver.
"Don't get yourself down," my wife said, "it'll all be over in a week or two."