Have to wonder what the Olympians would be doing on a morning such as this one. Would they be up early, wrapped up in dashing outdoor wear, shoveling snow, chiseling ice and announcing that "this is what makes winter worthwhile!" Or would they be wrapped up, cowering in the lurking places of a heat source, and contemplating the possibilities of self administering some kind lobotomy.
And here, I think it sufficient to say that The Artist has what might be best to
call "the Olympian spirit." For my part I will not be blowing bubbles,
building snowmen, huffing hot breath on the latches of frozen doors, or
for that matter going outside until maybe June. And if you want to know why,
it's because I have decided to think of myself as a Titan.