The other day I was walking through a blistering, blustery, blinding-white below-zero snowstorm, cursing the day I decided not to live on a Caribbean island, and doubly cursing the day I decided not to be born with antifreeze for blood. Because if I had been born with antifreeze for blood, I’d probably have other alien characteristics as well, such as the ability to launch an anvil from my hand that I could drop on the head of the person walking in the snowstorm next to me when that person proclaimed: “at last! This is what January is SUPPOSED to be like.”
But I have neither alien nor supervillain powers, nor, really, the desire to be violent in an anvil-dropping way, so instead, I started to think about what these months might be like if I had my say.
And hence, Benito Lynch. Hope it keeps you warm.