Surviving in an Igloo

54.2 degrees.... you may be thinking that's the temperature outside. Well, let me tell you, it's the temperature in our home. No joke. I can barely type this entry right now, my poor fingers are turning purple. I don't think it's considerably normal to wear beanies and scarves and snow socks... inside your house. So, you may be wondering why it's like the artic circle in here. Our heater decided to quit pumping out warm air a couple days ago. It's quite terrible actually. Painful would be another word to describe it. My three dog children and I are huddled next to our small space heater, trying to survive. I think I know what it feels like to trek through the Catskill Mountains or the Appalachians hoping to persevere through the bitter cold. I think I need some wolf or beaver skins, or whatever those Alaskans wear in their igloos. I am typing this in 2 minute increments... I have to pump out a few sentences and then stumble to the space heater to defrost a little. The blessed heater repair man is due around 12pm. I can only hope my family will endure this harrowing experience. Maybe I should write a book about it... "Mother survives aching cold with three dog children"... sounds like a best seller to me...