A few days ago I shoveled about a ton and a half of free topsoil into the back of our pickup truck. I was planning to use it to alleviate some drainage problems around our foundation. The damp basement is not good. So I had this idea that I would load as much as I could stand on Friday, unload it on Saturday, and go back for more on Sunday. But on Saturday, after a night in the pickup truck bed, the dirt was frozen about four inches deep. I broke it up a bit with a mattock and did get maybe a fourth of it unloaded, but at that point the wind chill and the sweat were turning into a bad combination. So I gave up my plan. I decided I'd just wait for a thaw to do the rest, and hope for some more free topsoil another time.
Not a fascinating story, per se. But you know the part about the dirt freezing four inches into the pile overnight? And the wind chill forcing me inside? On Saturday. It's 70 degrees right now, by Fahrenheit's thermometer. On Monday. Our windows are all open. Motorcycles are out in full force. The kids are all playing outside.
What. The. Hell. What month is it anyway?