The gas price? Well, no, but at $1.67 a gallon I think it may have found the floor. No, I'm referring to this morning's drive-to-work temperature: 19 degrees Fahrenheit (convenient conversions for my international and canine readers: -7 degrees Celsius, 133 degrees Sled Dog).
How cold is it? It's so cold that when Brave Sir Hogarth broke his don't-run-away rope last night, he didn't. Run away, that is. Unfettered freedom most assuredly beckoned to his independent spirit and the Call of the Wild was no doubt ringing in his ears, but the Call of the Pillow In Front of the Fireplace was far more urgent.