For the past 48 hours in Chicago it has been raining, sleeting and last night around 9 pm it finally started snowing. Now that it's here, I've officially commenced what we'll call the Season of Complaining.
I've lived in this city all my life, so I consider myself a "Chicagoan". I say "Ma" instead of "Mom" and drink Old Style like water. I know the grid system, hate the Kennedy and can tell you who has the best Italian beef in the city off the top of my head.
But no matter how many years I spend in the city, no matter how many pounds of snow I shovel off my car year after year, I still become a little whiny bitch for the first few weeks once that first snowflake hits the ground.
You'd think I'd get used to the freezing cold winds that even the warmest coat can't break, the slushy, five seconds away from spinning out of control every time I change lanes morning commutes, the slow and inefficient way in which the Chicago DOT responds to the weather report. I know all this, and yet I still complain. Why?
Because that's part of being from Chicago. We complain.
We complain about the Bears, we complain about Daley, we complain about the expressways. We complain. That's what we do.
I know that winter means I'll walk around for about two months with the cuffs of my pants soaking wet. I know that it means once Dec. 1st hits, I will have about only one 6x6 area of street that I can actually park on that's not now considered a "Snow Route". I know that it means that I will have a choice between turning on the heat in my apartment and paying the cable bill and damn it, the Food Network wins every time.
I know all this and I still choose to live here because once that first crisp, white snow falls, all the dirt and grime and muck we've become innoculated by every day is washed away and I all at once remember that I live in the greatest city in the world.
Happy first snow storm Chicago!
p.s. Happy Cyber Monday, too! I'm going to spend the rest of today happily in an electronics-induced coma. Mmmm gigahertz.
June 2018
6 years ago
3 comments:
my grandmother used to make us wear bread bags between our boots and our socks so that the cuffwet wouldn't rub off on our socks or our skin. It was so embarassing to pull your boots off at school and have two bags in there, but it was a damn good idea, and I'm thinking of reinstating it in my life.
Oh, and she would wear her bag under her boots and over her pants, and avoided cuffwet entirely. I'm not that secure in my self esteem. Maybe in 40 years.
Hee hee, hooray!
I have seen snow falling from the sky twice since I was a baby.
It was magical! To visit.
Happy Winter, my dear! :)
It's weird that I am waaaay up here in Canada, and yet I haven't worn anything heavier than a hooded sweatshirt so far this year.
Of course I am uber burly...
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