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My kitchen in 1996 did have some appeal.
It was warm from cooking, you got free tasters of the food, and my sparkling wit. Also it was close to the fridge.
But my knockers were well hidden.
We all wore about three layers of clothes until the living room warmed up.
Guests returned from the bathroom a shade of pale blue.
Cats were prized beyond their pet value, just for having hot blood inside them. We don't get the extremes of temperature you do in the US, but never underestimate the misery of a cold, damp English Winter with no heating.
Oh. That's what I'm living through now.
Except without the warm bodies.
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Life's hard you know, so strike a pose on a Cadillac
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