When Hell Freezes Over

I’ve never actually read Dante’s Inferno, but I have enough 101-level cultural literacy to know that there’s 9 circles of hell described there, each one with its own individual ambiance.

I think one of those hell levels is of the frozen wasteland variety?

I am, of course, ruminating on this notion because I am writing this in glorious Indianapolis, Indiana, where the current temperature is a balmy 10 degrees Fahrenheit, and where tomorrow’s predicted high will be an even more impressive 2 degrees.

frozen-hell

If that weren’t bad enough, this predicted high will be happening at midnight whilst the temperatures continue to fall. By the time I’m waking up, things should be closer to -10 or so.

Remember: there are all actual temperatures. Wind chills will be a whole other order of magnitude.

In the interest of general courtesy, I will refrain from too much speculation around who thought it was a good idea to have a late-January conference in the chilly Midwest.* That’s all water under the bridge (or ice up against the dam): the choice was made, here they are, and therefore, here I am.

Maybe this is just me being a hypochondriac, but I kinda think I can feel it. Most often, when I stay ion a hotel in wintertime, there’s so much radiant heat coming in from neighboring rooms and up from lower floors that I’m actually trying to bring the temperature down a little bit to a level I find comfortable. Tonight, I feel cold in my hotel room–a rare occasion, indeed.**

I got a few grocery-type things today, so I could just roll up the sidewalks and stay in my hotel room once I got in after all day’s meetings. Covered me for dinner tonight, and should get me through most (or all?) of tomorrow, too. It’s not my usual approach to visiting a new city–even though I don’t go to super-expensive places, I’m usually wanting to try out local restaurants and walk around bit to get a little bit acquainted with wherever I am.

Not tomorrow, though. Based on the current forecast, I’m not too sure about the rest of the week, either.

On the bright side, being a New Englander means I was able to be mostly prepared for this. Layers, cardigans, wool coat, fleece-lined leggings to wear with my work dresses: the whole nine yards. Even better is that fact that I was able to book a room in one of the conference hotels that has an enclosed walkway connecting me to the convention center. So it is hypothetically possible that I can get through the next 36 hours without having to face a single molecule of the outside air.

Dante might call that a win.

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* Seriously.

** Not cold enough to raise the thermostat, though–not if I can avoid it. That’s already reading 70, so I’m going to try very hard to bundle up so I don’t have to do the excessively selfish thing of cranking things up higher than that.

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Image credit: Flickr user Nathan Warner, via a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.0 Generic license.

 

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