One of my biggest complaints with Paris was the weather. Specifically, the winter weather. When I think about winter in Paris, I think mainly of icky grey skies and rain. Perhaps an occasional centimetre of snow, enough to get the Parisians in a tizzy, but nothing for this Midwestern-born girl to blog home about.
When I think winter, I think snow. Lots and lots of snow. The 10-inches-overnight kind. The traffic-ruining kind. The no-we-don't-get-a-snow-day-this-is-freaking-Chicago kind. The did-you-shovel-your-sidewalk-three-times-today? kind.
And, precisely one week after I removed my heaviest winter coat from its dry cleaning bag and coated my boot zippers with PAM cooking spray to loosen them up for the season, it is here. The snow is here.
Yesterday Chicago was put under a winter storm watch. It started snowing last night and hasn't stopped all day. And it's not going to stop all night, or tomorrow night maybe. Lucky for me, I don't have a car that could possibly get towed, nor do I have a job to commute to. So the snow isn't ruining my life as it is ruining other people's lives. Instead I shall focus on the minute details of my own simple life, which are mainly Nestle chocolate mint hot cocoa, not slipping and falling on my runs, and reveling in the fact that right now, Chicago is the only place in the world I want to be.