It is not a bright and cheerful morning. There is no first ray of sunlight peeking through the curtains, only a howling raw wind from the gap at the keyhole of the bedroom door. It is freezing cold outside and the drafts in our house are like an Icelandic ice bath as I pour out of bed and blindly wander around looking for slippers. “I will wait” by Mumford and Sons is playing in my head. I stretch, I yawn, and I feel the radiator wake from its troubled sleep-set point of 62 degrees. It kicks into high gear as the floor shakes and begins to thaw, drowning out the voice of Marcus Mumford crooning on about devotion and patience in my head. "Now I'll be bold as well as strong. And use my head alongside my heart." I stumble to the kitchen sensing that something is off kilter with the universe this morning, and it is not my bare left foot, unsuccessful in finding a slipper and losing a battle with potential frostbite. The first sensation as I en...