My grandfather called me up one summer day when I was ten years old and said he was picking me up in the morning and teaching me how to play golf. The following day, my gramps, metaphorically, put the needle in, and I’ve been a golf addict ever since. My childhood home had a neighbor to the south with an apple tree bordering our property, which occasionally left apples strewn all over our yard. It was one of my chores to rid the yard of apples. After golfing with my grandfather, I discovered there was no better tool for the job than a 5 iron. We had another neighbor 2 doors north that I never got along with who had a circular above-ground pool about the size and shape of a green. I often wondered if my neighbor had any idea how apples ended up in his pool.
"...when the temp was freezing…Oh yeah." HAHA!
Perhaps you're playing off the toe with that 8 iron? Stand a little closer to stop slicing those turds.