So cold that people from the Midwest have finally stopped bragging about not needing a jacket.
So cold that your off-campus heating bill rivals your SAT score.
So cold that your hair is covered in snot and frozen to your face, like a battle-cage of sadness.
So cold that your Saxby’s Americano turns to iced coffee by the time you get to DRL.
So cold that you consider actually using the sauna at Pottruck.
So cold that you have full license to scowl angrily at all humans.
So cold that DFMOS turn to DFCS (dance floor cuddle sessions.)
So cold that you do, in fact, use the Pottruck Sauna.
So cold that you wonder if your computer froze…like, actually froze.
So cold that you wonder if Disney actually controls the weather in order to guarantee Frozen’s box office success. They’re powerful–too powerful.
So cold that you think homicidal thoughts toward anyone who tries to chat with you when you walk down Locust.
So cold that your shoe size might be larger than today’s degrees (Fahrenheit.) Stay warm, Quakers!