Cold Enuf For Ya?

I walked to the store [supermarket] tonight, experiencing Calgary in all its wintery goodness. The snow falls evenly overnight but melts in unusual ways. Cars move, leaving rectangles of dark asphalt. Snowdrifts pile against fences and in gutters, and cling to windows and awnings. I look for undisturbed snow to tread on with my solid, sensible shoes.
The store has central heating, and I take my hands out of my pockets and my gloves off, massaging my fingertips. They're playing Christmas songs, bouncy and cheerful with bells a-ringing. The checkout clerks are friendly and upbeat. When I walk outside, a blast of -10C wind hits me and I put my gloves back on, alternating hands in coat pockets every minute to keep my fingers awake.
My nose was running in the store, but it has stopped now; as if sensing that Logan's face was something of a bad bet, it tried to run while the running was good. I'm walking side-on to the wind, so my nose is the extremity which is bearing the brunt of the curling, restless zephyr. It begins to grow numb. It doesn't feel cold; it just doesn't feel like it's there anymore. As I trudge on, no longer noticing the winter wonderland, the numbness spreads over my face. I can feel my sinuses aching with frozen neglect, and as I turn onto my street my ears begin to sting.
African elephants flap their ears to cool off, the blanket-like appendages bearing vast networks of blood vessels channeling hot plasma to the thin, flapping skin. The thinnest parts of my ears send sharp messages as the wind whistles past: my body has begun to shut down. It is withdrawing from my ears, my face, my fingers; my expedition to the store has become indistinguishable to my body from Scott's trip to the Antarctic.
As I lever open the door and set my bags down, I pull off my gloves and rub life back into my hands. I touch my nose, my ears; they are cold and otherworldly, like a dead man's. Parts of my body were preparing to perish.


That's all very sad. Here's a picture of a lolcat.