So tomorrow it’s supposed to be 23 degrees. Hope, that would be warm. Actually, the forecast is for it to be a high of 3 degrees. A low of -6. Of course all of that is Fahrenheit. Which reminds me of a Ray Bradbury book in which these guys are all driving around in beetles and then they’re burning books and then this one gal is watching TV and then the alarm goes off and the coffee maker turns on and then the toast pops out of the toaster oven and then you discover that it wasn’t a dream, everyone’s dead but the automation keeps going. Or something like that.