Okay, campers, rise and shine, and don’t forget your booties ’cause it’s cooooold out there today. Chicago is locked in a vicious cycle of snow thanks to some large body of water nearby, or possibly some large landmass north of the contintental 48. Either way, we’re settling in for snow and lots of it.
We’re fine here, stocked up with plenty of firewood and bacon grease and lard and buckshot. It’s hard on the little ones, though, their whole routine gets thrown out of whack.
I’m worried that our neighbors’ inflatable Christmas decorations won’t have the grit and gumption to see things through. All day long Rudolph pulls Santa out of a chimney, then stuffs him right back down again. Up, down, up, down. These days, bearing the weight of the recent snowfall, they mostly lay about on the ground, clinging to each other like a pair of drunken lovers. Possibly they are contemporary art.
The seasonal colds are sharpening their knives, I can feel it. No one on the train sniffles or coughs, which is an ominous sign – this is the calm before the storm. Batten down the hatches and get ready for the pain, perhaps with a little understanding about what makes us all different (pilfered from Dooce).