When my car tells me it is 18 below, nothing makes me happier than finding this:
A Full Service gas station. This one is close(ish) to Carmen and Chloe's choir and I have used it twice now on cold nights. It feels like a victory to make it to Thursday before I need to fill up because there is not a full service station conveniently located near my house.
Ken, on the other hand, walked out the door tonight with boyish excitement to go back for his truck - he left it along the way home after he drove over a set of keys on the road (strange) and punctured his tire. It must have been some sort of caveman-overcome-the-elements instinct plus the anticipation of working with tools. Maybe. Really, I have no idea of why he seemed to find adventure where I would have found aggravation.