When I moved to Chicago, by choice, I promised to never complain about the weather because I knew what I was getting into. It's windy, duh. It's cold, duh. These are things I knew. They are the reason I buy nice snow boots and nice down jackets. And they are the reason that half the time I don't apply my mascara until I get to work because I know my eyes will water so badly on the way to the train that I'd look like a clown with runny black eyes if I did. So I suck it up.
I suck it up every week, except for this week. BLIZZARD WARNINGS? Really? Highs in the single digits this week with wind chills in the negative teens? Really? On my birthday week (yes, i get a week ;-) )? Really?
OK, not that I had any big outdoor plans, or really expect mother nature to give me special treatment just because I'm creeping another year closer to my thirties, but a little warm-up would be nice. How about 30 degrees, maybe? Just for me Mother Nature? I guess we'll see!