It should come to no surprise then that this weekend was ass cold and ass snowy. But it does; it does surprise every year. This morning, I woke up and it was ten degrees and when I stepped outside I thought to myself “OOOH!! OOOH GOD!!! AHH! OOH GOD NO!! AAAAH!”
Yes, Bill Belichick brought this upon us.
So yes time to get out those hats and scarves and snow shoes and bear pelts and dog sled teams and whiskey sweet whiskey because guess what Chicago? It’s going to be cold; it’s going to be unpleasant; it’s going to be a long time before everything is okay again.
But I think as long as you keep everything in perspective and remember the Seven Stages of Sno-cceptance (SNOWMANTEAU! Five bonus points for self-referrential linkage to me!) then at least you can rationalize the fact that you’re going through the exact same torturous process as every other poor bastard waiting on Halsted for a bus that might never come.
The steps are:
- Shock: “What the hell is that? Is that snow? Already? What month is it? Sonofabitch.”
- Denial: “There’s no way it’ll stick, though. Right? The ground is probably still too warm, so it will all melt and everything will go back to the way it was, right? Right?”
- Pain: “Holy hell, it’s cold. Oh God, why is it so cold?”
- Guilt: “I could have lived anywhere in the whole damned country. Why did I pick this godforsaken tundra? What’s the weather like in Miami right now?”
- Anger: “ARRGGHHH! ARRGGHHH! WIND!! AAARRGGHHH!!!”
- Bargaining: “If the snow can just hold off until I get home, I promise I’ll volunteer time at a shelter for homeless meth-addict puppies”
- Capitulation: “I give up. I’m ordering Lou Malnati’s delivery and spending the next two months watching garbage network television.”
Stay strong, my Chicagoan brethren. Stay strong and stay warm.