Cracked.

"Our living room window is cracked from the cold.....when should we notify the drill sergeant?"

This was the message I received from Corb at around eleven. The drill sergeant, in case you were wondering, is our affectionate little nickname for the second in command at our apartment complex. Most efficient woman, she is.

I guess I'm not surprised. It's been so cold here in New England these past few days. This morning I think it was about one degree outside. One measly degree. If I were a window, I think I'd crack, too, under the pressure.

About a half an hour later, Corb emailed me a photo of the crack, along with a sweet note, composed from his desk, located at the Eldredge satellite office for Binkley International. The note went as follows:

"I sent you a photo...I love you, and it was nice knowing you. When you come home, I will be a frozen ice cube. I have the oven on and candles lit for heat."

Hey, how can a guy resist something like that? I just had to call him right away. At the very least, I needed to find out whether I'd actually come home to a huge six foot five ice cube that night. A cube that size could come in real handy. At the very least, it would keep my martinis chilled for quite some time.

"That crack looks nasty," I said. "Don't worry, I called the drill sergeant. But are you sure the crack came from the cold? There might be other reasons. Maybe a bird flew into the window."

"How could a bird flying into a window make such a huge crack?" asked Corb, skeptically.

"Well, it's so cold out. The poor bird probably felt like a frozen turkey. Imagine a frozen turkey hitting our window!"

"But the crack's on the inside," said Corb. "How in the world would a frozen turkey get inside our apartment and fly around?"

"Hmmmmm." I thought about it for a moment. "We do keep our front door open an awful lot. Maybe it snuck in while we had our door open one day? You know...waited until no one was looking...crept in on little frozen turkey legs..."

Corb laughed. "Okay, so apparently we have frozen butterball turkeys trying to sneak their way into our apartment. We should be so lucky! And why would this frozen turkey then decide to break our window?"

"He got bored. Listening to you take calls for Binkley International isn't always the most exciting thing in the world, you know. The butterball got bored and lunged at the window. It was a death wish!"

"To try and get out?"

"Yep!" I could tell from Corb's silence that he wasn't buying any of this. "Look around, behind the curtains. Don't be surprised if you find a frozen giblet or two lying around."

Well, he didn't, but I tell you, it really is cold enough around here for a wild turkey to freeze.

I'd hate to be homeless in weather like this. For some reason, that's been on my mind a bit lately. I've heard several times that homeless shelters are currently at total capacity, and I believe it. It's not a pleasant thought, being outside on the streets in weather like this.

Cracked windows or not, at least we have a roof over our heads. There but for the grace of God...that's a level of shattered I never want to endure.