So, Bill and I are sick with bad colds. You think we'd be staying home where it's warm instead of going out into the -25F cold-as-all-get-out weather? Oh, noooooooooo! We get it into our heads that we absolutely MUST do a trash run (we live out of town & have to haul our own trash), go to the post office and drop off recyclables at Wal-Mart. We might as well get lunch, too, as long as we're out. Even though we're miserable. And it's cold. And just going downstairs seems like a huge effort. Let alone coming back up.
We got all the trash and recyclables loaded into the car, and off we go. I'm thinkin' to myself I hope this is fast because I just wanna go home and curl up in bed. Suddenly Bill says, "Moose!" I'm in lalaland, so I don't see it right away but the car ahead of us has come to a complete stop. The moose had obviously just crossed the road and was standing in our lane looking at us like WE'RE the idiots hogging the road. Something must have spooked him because he lopes off the road into someone's yard. Every other car goes on their merry way, but I tell Bill to stop once we get within view of the moose - I wanted a picture (the only camera I had was the one on my phone, but maybe it would work).
I roll down the window to get the picture, but the camera won't zoom in close enough to make the moose bigger than a dot. Meanwhile, the moose looks directly at our car. Now, that's not a good thing, folks. What goes on in a moose's head is utterly unfathomable. He might just be checkin' us out, or maybe he's thinking about running over to stomp the dickins out of us. Bill decides not to take chances, so we drive away (the photo is one from Google images since I didn't get my own pic). FYI - up here, if you hit a moose with anything less than a monster truck or semi, chances are your car will be totalled and the moose will walk away.
By the time we dump the trash and get some lunch, we're both feeling worse than when we started. I ask Bill, "Do you think I can twist you're arm into going straight home? The recyclables can wait." He doesn't argue...he's more miserable than I am. Once home, he immediately collapses in a chair with the quilt and conks out.