It is cold, people. Cold enough that the snow makes that awful squeaky crunching noise when you drive or walk over it. Cold enough that the staff at Starbucks give you a quizzical look, and then say, “Um, we don’t HAVE that right now?” when you ask for an iced coffee. Cold enough that if you have to go outside for any reason at any point in the day, no combination of fuzzy pants and heated blankets and animals piled on top of you can get the last bit of chill out from your bones. Last night, I spent some time trying to convince Mike to find a work-at-home actuary job that he could do from Maui. He fed me some excuse about how those jobs “don’t exist” but it is okay, because it means I can focus on my lifelong dream of opening up a bookstore in Hawaii, which would be called “Be Right Back” and would have one of those clock signs in the door indicating how long it will be until the shopkeeper returns, because I would always be at the beach drinking pina coladas. Of course, I would have to go back periodically to snuggle the two grey cats, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern, that live there so there would be small windows during the day when customers could make purchases and we could exchange small talk on how beautiful the weather is and how tasty the fish tacos are. You may be wondering how I could reasonably expect to get a green card to run a business that almost certainly won’t make any money, but it is okay, because I am wondering it too.