The Pipes, The Pipes

Holy shit it's cold. I know it's not like Winnipeg or Montreal cold, but for Halifax - 15 below is pretty brutal. Plus, it's a "wet cold", or so I'm told, which, again I'm told, may make it worse than Winnipeg because here you actually feel your nose and earlobes and extremities freezing, instead of discovering them black or missing when you check a mirror later in the day. Or find them in your lunch or your car seat. (Yay Winnipeg - bring back the Jets!)

To make matters worse, our pellet stove has been struggling rather pathetically to maintain room temperature in our drafty sieve of a house at these very non-Maritime temperatures. In light of this, our furnace has been working overtime to compensate - burning so much precious oil in providing the scalding hot water to be pushed through the baseboard pipes; copper pipes that shake and rattle and creak and squeal and bang and thump and groan and clatter, every half hour or so, all day, all night. It is truly a wonder that Lydia gets any sleep at all.

So to summarize: it's damn cold and our hot-water baseboards make a friggin' racket.

Aaron out.