Of all the days not to have a bus token or a single dollar. 12 fucking degrees, and the first time I’ve walked to work since early fall. In our office it hovers in the mid-fifties, and we’re all walking around in hats and coats. It should not be so pleasurable to wash one’s hands in hot water, but it is an experience approaching ecstasy after a few hours typing with stiff fingers next to a drafty storm window. The only consolation is that I am not a canvasser. I could close the blinds for added insulation, but then I would not get to see napkins, styrofoam and other detritus fall out of higher windows. Or have a moment of day light. Yesterday was so windy that South Philly’s trash has collected itself—and lodged in trees. Never had I seen so many plastic bags aloft in a single afternoon.