It's hit me hard this week how lucky I am to have a job that enables me to sit in a warm building, rather than outside in brutal weather.

As I sat at a stoplight yesterday, wishing my car would warm up a little faster and offer me some much-needed heat, I noticed a postal worker trudging from house to house, delivering the mail. Here I was, quietly cursing the fact that I hadn't let my car run for a bit before leaving work, so the heat would be pumping out warmth when I was ready to go, and there's this person who's out in the elements, with ruddy cheeks and visible breath. It made me realize how spoiled I am. This man has a vehicle in which to get a little respite, but he's only in it for a few minutes at a time, and then it's back out into the bitter cold.

My husband echoed my sentiments yesterday when he met up with the garbage collectors just in time to throw a bag on their truck. He commented to them about how tough it must be to work on days like we've had this week, and the worker said 'it's not bad, as long as you keep moving.' And, I'm sure, if you dress properly for it.

So, as I sit here, shivering slightly from a small draft, I offer my respect to anyone who spends their workday, or part of their workday, outside. It's probably a fun way to make a living in the summer, when you get to be out in the sun. But, in the winter, it's not a lifestyle for the weak at heart.

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