This shouldn't be controversial, but someone needs to say it: We're entitled to yell "GUYAHHGH!" when it's below zero.
Perhaps I should explain. It's a multipart back story, so bear with me. Besides, it's not like you need to rush off to the beach or anything.
It's cold, right? Yes. A tad nippy.
The good news about this cold weather is that it can't last forever, unless a massive volcano erupts and shrouds the Earth with dust that obscures the sun. You probably stopped at "massive volcano erupts" and thought, "That sounds attractive right about now. Nice and toasty."
The cold brings us together with relatives who moved to Arizona and want to remind us that they can move about freely outdoors in minimal clothing without their face feeling like someone fed a basket of frozen needles into a jet engine.
It also provides the perfect justification for sitting in front of the TV for hours on end. And after you've shaken off your despair over the weather, you find the strength to turn the TV on, and it gets even better! There are shows you've been intending to binge-watch. For instance, I've been wanting to catch up on that British show about an Inspector who solves murders in a small town, but I can't because the DVR has been otherwise occupied.
That's how we get to "GUYAHHGH!" It's what we do around the house now.
My wife plays tennis. A lot. I don't. At all. When we were dating, I agreed to play racquetball, which is half-tennis, except you're competing against a wall that has somehow convinced you to regard the other person as your opponent, instead of teaming up against the wall.