I haven't looked at the thermometer for fear that it would crush the last of my spirit. There are plenty of other indicators to remind of the bitter cold. My breath forming clouds of mist at every exhale. Ice has formed over the water in the toilet and when I went to relieve myself my stiff frozen fingers turned my outtie to an innie at first touch.
I realize I may not survive this severe weather and wonder if anyone will even find this journal entry. Items that I would never part with before I'm going to use for fuel for a fire. It's mostly Ikea catalogs and Details magazines with the cologne samples torn out but it should buy me one more night and I can hope for a break in the weather soon.
I've blocked the doors against wolves and bears and Mormon Missionaries. They can all get very aggressive when it's cold and they're starving. I wonder how my friends are coping and what precautions they've taken. I hope none of them have to find me frozen in my zebra print snuggy hands free to write my final words.
I must sign off now to conserve energy. I looked at the thermometer and as I guessed my spirits are now lower than ever. 55 degrees.
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