All Write, Already!

The pages blur.
I turn up the radio, to drown out the sound of my teeth chattering.
It's got to be 10 degrees, maybe less, in here.
I've been going blind lately, so if I am to succeed, I need to put my glasses on.
My breath immediately fogs the lenses.
I pull them off, breathe heavily on them, wipe the condensation off with the back of my gloves, and perch them back on my nose.
The frames are freezing now. They stick to my temples, threatening to become a permanent fixture on my face.
I shiver again. The pages 0of the newspaper in my hands blur again.
Damn.
It's too cold in here to even read.