It's the kind of cold outside where the door to the backyard freezes shut constantly (no moisture necessary), your lips chap instantaneously, and even when you're wearing four jackets, a coat, huge gloves, and wool socks, you still feel exposed.
It's the kind of cold outside that you have to look down and make sure you still have all your fingers, sniff the dry winter air to make sure your nose is still intact, and wiggle your toes continuously to save them from falling off and rolling around in your shoes.
It's the kind of cold outside that you forget how cold it actually is because when you look out the window, the weeks-foretold / weeks-expected / weeks-delayed snow is so blatantly and stubbornly absent.
It's the kind of cold outside where even the clouds are too cold to come out and play, and Mr. Sun has hired a misleading, ascetic temporary substitute while he goes to vacation in Melbourne.
It's the kind of cold that not only makes you want to stay inside, but forces you to.
It's the kind of cold outside that shocks even the most prepared among us, that makes even the most patient soul impatient, and stuns even the most agile of minds and spirits.
It's the kind of cold outside that, technically speaking, it's fifteen degrees outside, and only getting colder.